Author: Psykiapa (that's me, obviously)
Rating: Very meek PG-13
Genre(s): Romance, (is there romance yet? No, nothing major, just a warning) Fantasy, Harry Potter (duh)
Warning: This story does include slash (if you could call it that), but that is barely any part of it right now.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, never will, or anything incorporated with it. I am writing this purely out of the pleasure to be filling the time between when the books come out, and I do not disrespect the fact that J. K. Rowling owns this or that Warner Bros. owns the movie(s). Don't file a suit; I'm just a humble writer. Oh, and I may subconsciously quote TV shows or movies, or be inspired by them, sometimes it's indicated, sometimes its not, but you should know that I don't mean any harm.
Chapter 11: Developments
They had arrived in darkness, carefully shrouded against the rest of the school. Their hoods were pulled high over their faces and their hair windswept from the journey. They were quietly and securely ushered to their rooms, while the students slept on, oblivious.
* * *
Hermione was lost in the whirlwind that was the girls' dorms. She had thought that she could stay in her room and get her excess amount of homework done, but aparantly that wasn't going to happen.
As was typical with fifteen- and sixteen-year-old girls, Parvati and Lavender were frantically going through their wardrobes. They had to figure out just what it was they were going to wear, what make-up would be dabbed on their faces, how their hair would be done, what color scheme they should figure for . . . the list went on forever. It was the night before the day of the ball, and tomorrow would be a Hogsmeade day. Hermione was planning to have her hair done professionally, but that was it. Parvati and Lavender, however, were there to do nothing of the sort. They were so worried that Hermione was about to shriek and pull out all her hair and save a few sickles in doing so. She had no one to really impress tomorrow . . . unless you counted Ron.
At first, she had only accepted Ron's invitation with the whim that no one else would ask her and that it would make Harry happy to see them together, even if they weren't officially "dating." Then, it had turned into something else. Hermione was a brilliant girl, and she realized, soon, that she was only going with him (for the ball didn't require dates) because she missed him, and knew that they had always had a fun time. Whether or not they were arguing. From there, she soon realized that her feelings for him had never diminished. It scared her, but she was happy as well. Ron hadn't moved on either; he hadn't asked anyone else to her knowledge. And when Harry had had to leave, they had talked about everything together.
She watched the desperate girls in her dorm talk about such frivolous things, sighed, and went to talk to Ginny, who wasn't as interested in this ball as she was Harry. Besides, Ginny had the sense to know Hermione didn't want to speak of such things; they irritated her. So, Hermione gathered together her things and went down to the Common Room.
* * *
As Nikiatom was unpacking his things, there was a timid knock on the door. She mumbled to himself, going to the door and opening it before she changed his mind.
There stood a very nervous Harry, holding a strange looking box in his hands. Nikiatom, shocked that the monarch had come to visit her, and stood aside so Harry could walk nervously into the room, tucking one lock of hair behind his elegantly pointed ear. Nikiatom sensed that Harry was having trouble knowing how to say what it was that he was trying to say, and decided to help him.
"There was something you wanted to talk to me about?" She asked timidly, lowering his gaze to the ground.
"Yes, there was." That's where this conversation stopped for about three minutes as Nikiatom stared at Harry, and Harry pondered just why he was so nervous.
"Would you like to sit down?"
Harry smiled nervously at Nikiatom, and sat in the proffered chair. Nikiatom sat down on the bed.
Harry had been summoning up the courage to tell Nikiatom this for the whole journey, and finally had it. "I'm sorry."
There was another awkward pause. "Excuse me?" Nikiatom asked delicately.
"I'm sorry. I was a jerk to you; I had no right to treat you that way at the Order meeting. I'm-I'm just terrified that you might be mad at me . . . I don't know if I could bare that. I also brought you this . . ." Harry indicated the box. "They're a candy here, I thought you might like them."
Harry handed the chocolate frog to his companion. She took it, a silent thank you on his lips. She smiled as he saw the chocolate inside it. "I've missed these. How did you know they are my favorite?"
"I had a sense." Harry smiled at him, and let her muse over the chocolate, not knowing what to expect.
"You know that I've been here before." Nikiatom commented. Harry nodded. "What else do you know?"
"Only that you need a friend, that you need to talk about it. You've kept this information so guarded that none of the other sylphs know about it, and if they do, they don't say anything." Harry pondered the blonde sylph. "That's not an easy feat to accomplish."
Nikiatom offered a small smile. "No, it isn't." He studied the carefully designed box in her hands. "They've changed it since I was here."
Nikiatom's striking purple eyes looked at Harry, scrutinized him. "You look so much like James did." There was a pause, as of contemplation. "You deserve to know."
"Before your father left, I was still a young sylph. Terribly young, but not too immature that I hadn't had my first vision. He was like my mentor, he was really what I wanted to be. He was smart, terribly funny, beautiful . . . amazing.
"He took me in after my parents were killed by a spell He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named was trying to perfect. It was done, the Killing Curse strong enough to kill Immortals. He put me under his wing; he was the one that helped me get through it. From there, our leader, Eldrid at the time, wished upon us that we would not emerge into the Free World until You-Know-Who was gone for good. Your father knew what it was he needed to do, and he was brave in doing so. You know that side of the story.
"My side is, decidedly, different. When I was young, I had had a vision; that of your father. I couldn't get it out of my head, I couldn't figure out what it was. Then, one day, after your father had been gone for seven years, I realized it. I was supposed to be the one to love him. In a fit of bravery, I ran to him, I ran into this Free World, and when I saw him, happy, and with your mother, I knew it was too late. He took me in for the second time, telling me to stay for a while. I stayed for a month; I had really missed him. And the night before I was to leave, I finally had gotten up the courage to tell him of my vision. It was silly; I was only eleven. I thought I was in love, but he told me, quietly, so as not to hurt my feelings, that he was supposed to be with your mother - Lily? - and that I'd find someone later. I've been pining ever since, trying to find a way that I could find love, but my chance has passed."
Nikiatom was trembling, in a way Harry couldn't understand. The sylph had never been this open to him, nor had he ever cried. But now, it appeared as though Nikiatom was about to accomplish both. Harry did the only thing that was instinctive to him, and laid a hand on hers. Nikiatom composed himself, then smiled at Harry.
"Have you been edgy lately?"
It was completely unexpected.
"Yes, and that's partly why I was so strict at the last meeting. The bickering was starting to grate on my nerves. Why do you ask?" Harry answered, trying hard not to sound suspicious of himself.
"I think I might know why." Nikiatom looked for an invitation, supposed one was there, and continued. "Your body is just preparing you for some sort of trauma; it's common among sylphs, though not up here. It's especially common among your age category. You should be fully prepared for whatever comes your way from here on out. I thought you might like to know."
"Thank you."
They sat, once again, in a companionable silence, until Harry got up, said his goodnights, and left Nikiatom's room. He had a big day ahead of him, and it was late.
* * *
Harry hugged his arms to himself as he was walking through the corridors of Hogwarts. It was three in the afternoon, and the students were all at class. Hearing footsteps, Harry quickly turned around to meet Hagrid coming down the hall, holding a dead chicken.
"Hagrid!" Harry shouted.
"'Arry? Is that you?"
"Yeah! It's me!"
Hagrid promptly dropped the dead fowl and ran thundering down the hallway, only to sweep the small (as in petite) sylph into his arms, and above the ground. Harry wrapped his arms around as much of Hagrid as he could, and felt something wet fall through the strands of his hair.
"Oh, Hagrid, you don't have to cry, and besides, now I'm starting to cry." He very nearly sobbed.
"It's jus' not the same without yeh, 'Arry, there jus', there jus', yeh can' jus' leave me like that! It's jus' not the same!" Hagrid let him down after about another five minutes, then Harry pointed out the forgotten chicken, and Hagrid had to leave to go to class, but not without giving Harry another hug.
* * *
Ron waited for Hermione to be done dressing, as he was already decked out in his splendid dress robes, and whistled to himself. He had never been patient, and knocked on their door yet again.
"Hermione? Are you almost done?" He called, exasperated, when the door next to the one he had pounded on opened, revealing her in her gown.
He was speechless. It was a deep red, tight at the top, then flowing toward the bottom. The black that went with it as trim circled her waist, and went down in vertical stripes to her feet. It was nothing short of absolutely fantastic. As she turned for him, he saw the plunging back, also with black trimming, and how her hair was elegantly piled on her head in a shower of curls, and he couldn't figure whether it was considered up or done up. When she turned to face him again, she smiled, and he saw that she was wearing make-up, for once.
"Parvati and Lavender did the make-up." It was as if she could read her mind. "Are you just going to stand there gawking, or are you coming with me to meet Harry again?"
Dumbly, he took her hand. She looked at him strangely and linked arms, muttering about how little he knew of such affairs.
* * *
The students were absolutely silent as Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley introduced the foreign leaders to the student body and everyone gathered. The tension in the room palpable, those being introduced were grumbling at the thought that they weren't being paid any mind, no one really cared about the Queen of the Fairies* if no one could see her. Most were dying to see the sylphs; their beauty said to leave that of the Veela in the dust, and we all know how the boys of the school had reacted to Fleur. Besides, the Veela emperess was bewitching enough to the eye to cause several people to stand in a daze.
Dumbledore rocked on his heels slightly, he was also anticipating the meeting with the sylphs, if not just to figure how the students would react to see them. It proved to be far more amusing than the fact he still never received socks for Christmas.
Professor Snape was getting thoroughly bored. He was getting sick of his students staring at him, pointing, and goggling, just because he hadn't spent the entire day getting his hair greasy over the steaming potions. As far as he thought on the whole sylph idea, he had no intention of waiting on the edge of his seat just to see a race that was supposed to be beautiful. After all, he had seen Potter when he was at school, and had not thought of him as anything that special. Besides, he was far too old to be looking at something in a romantic sense; he wasn't that naive.
Professor McGonagall was also thoroughly bored. She wasn't interested in the sylphs, though she was simply sitting on pins and needles to watch them do their form of magic.
Hermione and Ron waited impatiently as the last groups before the sylphs arrived, were introduced, and went to stand behind the teachers. Any second now, they'd be coming. Any second now . . .
Draco scowled in the shadows. It was all he could do. Inside, his body was trembling, all of his own subconscious thought going into not rudely leaving the ball. The tight knot of pent up energy was all that was keeping the tiny voice in check; all that kept him sane as the two major forces within him waged the inward never-ending war. His father was screaming at him, his mind screaming back in an inevitable impasse.
Harry sucked in his breath, tugging at his clothing. Nikiatom saw that he was nervous and went to stand by him. They smiled anxiously at each other, and Harry reached out to his confidante.
Hey. It was all he could send through thought.
Hey. Nikiatom answered, soothing him. Why are you so nervous?
I can feel his eyes.
Whose?
An old enemy of mine; he is more than he seemed, I have learned, and is struggling even to be here tonight.
What was his name?
Draco Malfoy.
Oh. With an unspoken agreement, Nikiatom tucked a piece of hair into place in Harry's braid.
Don't be nervous; everyone loves you. Even Amadeus, although she doesn't show it. And besides, if you desire to, you can hide behind that mask of yours.
Harry sighed; he knew Nikiatom was right.
Why are you always so right?
Nikiatom smiled.
* * *
There was a collective gasp from throughout the hall as the sylphs stepped out from the side room. Harry held his head high, gathered the heavy black material that draped around his ankles. He held his head straight, making sure his nose wasn't high.
He tried to step gracefully while the knowledge that he was in front and the most noticeable of his people spun through his mind. There was a rush of emotion and thought; his rigorous training as a sylph had taught him to read the emotions of everyone around him, and sylphs were much better at cooling their emotions than the people of the free world. They had to, in order to keep some secrets to themselves. So here he was, in the free world, with nothing to guard him from the onslaught of emotion and thought that slammed into his senses.
He smiled as he reached Mr. Weasley and the professors. He bowed low in the sylvan way, and felt the sylphs bow behind him. He heard the announcer speak the name Liamh, but he wasn't really listening. He was scared to the very marrow of his bone when he looked into Snape's obsidian eyes.
Looking back to Professor Dumbledore, he saw that the man wanted to speak with him in front of the group. He complied, and signaled that he was listening.
"It is such an honor to have your people here tonight, since it has been ages since any of our kinds have seen you. We wish to welcome you whole- heartedly into this world."
There was mad cheering, especially from the young teens who were already developing indecent thoughts toward one or many of the sylphs. Most had unconsciously made their way to their feet as they saw the magnificent creatures before them.
"Some, of course, not as much as others." Here Harry glanced over to see the dwarf lord scowling in his corner. He distinctly caught the thought pretty little things that don't know anything running through his mind. As he kept watching, he noted that the lord was muttering to himself, and he laughed lightly.
"We would just like to thank you for coming up here. Potter, our contact in the sylph world has had to jump through many hoops to persuade them that it was beneficial to their futures to participate in this endeavor against the Dark side. Your efforts are sincerely gratified, and we will always be in your debt."
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore, I would like to say on behalf of my people that we are happy to help-" Amadeus snorted "-and to the dwarf lord that we already have several ideas in mind to help, and are eager to hear those of the other candidates. We assure you that we are not just ornamental people with no idea how to do things."
This actually wasn't totally uncalled for; in the dwarf lord's speech he had implied that he thought the sylphs were good for nothing.
"Thank you, Liamh, and the rest of the sylphs, for being here."
Harry went to find his seat next to the dwarf lord, who sank down into the padding of his chair as the elegant figure sat next to him.
* * *
Ron stared at the sylphs. How could something so close to human seem so much more beautiful? Then he saw the leader.
Dressed all in black, she wore what appeared to be a cross between a dress and a robe. There was a piece of fabric that wound around her neck and came down to be tucked into the chest. The top was fairly tight, but an interlocking woven pattern added texture. Her face was painted in a pattern of black and white, with silver pipes coming out to drop a teardrop.
Hermione noticed that Ron took an interest in the sylvan leader (goggling more like), and elbowed him in the ribs.
"What?" he asked in a whisper.
"Where's Harry?"
That, Ron decided, was a very good question. Suddenly, Professor Dumbledore and the sylphs were talking.
"It is such an honor to have your people here tonight, since it has been ages since any of our kinds have seen you. We wish to welcome you whole- heartedly into this world."
Ron cheered loudly; Hermione silenced him with a glare.
"Some, of course, not as much as others." Suddenly, the leader started to laugh harmonically, and her voice washed over those in the room.
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore, I would like to say on behalf of my people that we are happy to help-" one of the sylphs snorted "-and to the dwarf lord that we already have several ideas in mind to help, and are eager to hear those of the other candidates. We assure you that we are not just ornamental people with no idea how to do things."
"Thank you, Liamh, and the rest of the sylphs, for being here." They bowed again, and Ron watched the sylvan leader as she went to sit next to the dwarf lord, who was slowly trying to disappear from sight by way of blending in with his seat.
Dumbledore said a short speech, and the feast was on.
* * *
"I guess I should apologize," Harry said to the dwarf lord. "That was really quite embarrassing, wasn't it?"
"Uh, yeah, um . . ." The dwarf lord looked down at his food, then back up at the sylph. The dwarf lordess sat on the other side, deep in conversation with the Veela countess. She paid them no mind.
"I'm sorry if I made you more uncomfortable than I meant to. I hope we can build an allegiance anyway, and put this behind us, but I just had to get back at you for what you said in your own speech. I know that we didn't show it, but we were all rather hurt."
"You were?" the dwarf lord looked up at the sylvan leader in surprise.
"Well, of course we were. On our first night back, everyone is told that we are just ornamental pretty things, that don't have a mind of our own, and forever our reputation is questioned. I had to do something."
"Oh, I didn't realize-"
"It's no matter anymore. I've forgiven you, and embarrassed you in front of everyone, we are pretty much even. So, what exactly is your plan of action against Volde-do you mind if I say his name?"
The dwarf lord puffed out his chest in pride. "Not at all. I've always wondered why it was that no one ever said it."
"Good. So, what exactly were you thinking for the plan against Voldemort?" Harry leaned into the table, in the guise of spearing a piece of ham, while he was actually contemplating just how much everyone knew about sylphs.
"Well, first of all, I think that we should find out where he is hiding, then storm them with some of my best men-"
"So you are suggesting an outright attack?" The dwarf lord nodded. "On their ground?"
"Right. That way, they won't expect it."
"A daring plan." Liamh looked back down at his food, scrutinizing the dwarf out of the corner of his eye. "But what if we don't know the terrain, and they could be waiting for us exactly where we start from? How exactly would we get away?"
"We'd have to have someone scout the area beforehand."
"Would this be the same person that went out in the first place?"
"Of course, you must always save men for the battlefield in case too many of them die in the fight."
"I see your point. What if the guy doesn't come back?"
"We send another." The dwarf lord, whose name, by the way, was Draelf, looked at Liamh as if he were absolutely dense.
"Who's going to want to go after the first person was already killed, and most especially when they are mutilated. Voldemort, with his sick sense of humor, might even send the body back, and then no one would want to take over."
Draelf looked skyward, trying to work that out.
"It would be by far better to send two people, that way, if one is captured, the other could either come back or rescue, and we'd still have the information. But if the one person is captured, everything is risked."
"Hmm. I like the way you think. So we'd send two people. What else do you see wrong with my plan?"
"I think that you could make it a bit more specific, but it's a rough plan, so we'd need a lot more information about our enemy in order to do it properly."
There was a slight silence as Draelf drank his ale. He looked back at Harry, watching the elegant creature as he ate delicately.
"What was your plan?"
Harry contemplated the question, while chewing his black pudding.
"I haven't really thought about it. I think that I, since I haven't lived here for a year or so, need to be caught up on Voldemort's movements and everything before I can really propose an intelligent plan."
Draelf nodded, and Harry congratulated himself on the new ally.
* * *
Back at the Gryffindor table, Ron and Hermione were craning their heads along with everyone else to see where Harry was, when the feast disappeared, and Dumbledore stood to start the dance. Most everyone got up to dance, and they were left to search on their own, when Hermione rolled her eyes.
"What are you on about?"
"Your friend is coming."
Ron turned, and, much to his surprise, saw that the beautiful creature was making her way over to them. He quickly grabbed Hermione and pulled her onto the dance floor, all the while trying not to watch the dark angel as she was making her way over to them, a small smile on her face.
Hermione twisted in his arms, then tried to hide Ron from view, which was not very successful, as he was about a half a foot taller than her, even with her heels on. And still, the leader of the sylphs was coming toward them.
"Well, that was certainly something I never thought I'd see you two do." The sylph spoke to them.
Hermione turned around, looking confused, "Excuse me, but do I know you sir, uh, ma'am, um, sira'm." She quickly bowed and stopped talking.
"Hermione, I'm surprised at you. Hello, Ron, glad to see you're back together."
"Wait a minute," Ron started to mumble, "You know our names . . . you know we used to date . . . you have dark hair . . ."
"Ron, get there FASTER!" Hermione gruffly ordered. "It's Harry."
"No, its not, his name isn't Liamh." Ron was still very confused. Hermione flicked him on the ear.
"You had a lot of fun with that, didn't you Harry?" Hermione said as attacked him and hugged the air out of him.
"Harry?"
"Maybe it was a good thing you broke up." Harry said, glancing worriedly at Ron.
"Harry? Harry!" Ron shouted, shoving his date out of the way, and crushing Harry's bones worse than Hagrid had when he saw him yesterday. "You prat! Why didn't you tell us you were the monarch of the sylphs?"
"And miss the look on your faces? Of course I couldn't. Besides, it was a minor detail, I didn't absolutely have to tell you, now did I?" Harry offered them an evil little smirk, and Ron hit him on the shoulder.
They laughed, and while the other two weren't looking, Harry let his eyes wander over to the blonde Slytherin who was still scowling in the shadows.
He was wearing a black robe, but it was neither his normal work robes nor the robes that had made him look like a vicar. He looked like he had just gotten out of the bathroom, with his hair slicked back as it always was and his robes that looked mockingly like a bathrobe. They did nothing for him, and it was hardly a mystery as to why he hadn't worn anything nicer for the occasion. Most of the Slytherins looked like they came from Frumpville, and it seemed as if that was their protest against their own attendence of the ball. None of them looked to be having fun, and Malfoy the least of all. He exuded an elegant combination of irritance, mockery, and anger. His eyes were the bluish-gray of a tempestous sea storm, his brows knitted in a menacing scowl.
Is your old enemy the one you're looking at?
Yes, Nikiatom.
Ooh, just lovely. It came out as sarcastic.
Isn't he just? You can see why I never liked him.
Harry saw Nikiatom smile from across the room, and he turned back to Ron and Hermione.
"How's Malfoy been this year? Is he still the insufferable git as he always was?" he asked, glancing once more at Malfoy.
"Yes, like always." Ron rolled his eyes. Hermione turned to Harry.
"Well, I've noticed that he gets this odd pained look on his face when he starts to insult one of us. It's kinda weird. But enough about him. We won't let him ruin our reunion. Where did the name Liamh come from?" Hermione flippantly bent the conversation to her will.
Harry laughed. "Well, contrary to popular belief, my middle name isn't James. Its Liamh, which is sylvan, so when I'm in the Underworld, that is what they call me."
"Really? I always thought it was James, you know, like I'm Ron Arthur Weasley, and Ginny's Virginia Molly Weasley." Ron looked puzzled for a moment. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
"By the way, where is Ginny? I haven't seen her at all tonight." Harry scanned the crowd, but didn't see the youngest Weasley.
"Oh, she's off somewhere with Colin." Hermione explained.
"Yeah, Colin." Ron grumbled.
"What is your problem with Colin?" demanded Hermione. Harry only smirked.
"Well, he's . . . he's . . . Colin and . . . I don't think Ginny should be dating him! Boys of that age have only one thing on their minds!" Ron stuttered.
"Ron, remember last year when we dated?" Ron smiled at the memory. "You were that age."
"Well, I was a lot more mature than Colin has ever been." It was just a bit hard for Ron to defend himself when he was blushing furiously. Harry laughed his mellifluous laugh.
His pointed ears picked up on the rustling of Ginny's dress robes, and she kissed Ron on the cheek like only a sister could and said, "Colin bashing again, are we?" She turned to Harry. "Oh, Harry, I didn't recognize you!" She hugged him, and when she pulled away, he caught a glimpse of her necklace.
It is her; she with the hair of flames and the gown of silk; she is the one who holds the power of our people on her shoulders.
As suddenly as it had come, the mysterious voice disappeared, leaving in its wake the young monarch of the sylphs pale and shaking. What did that mean? Surely Ginny wasn't an enemy? Was she? She had always been somewhat prone to unknowingly wreaking dark magic; her first year had been proof of that. She was a strange girl; she stumbled upon trouble like the vinyard- owners on grapes; she never meant to, but it happened. Then again, the same could be said for Harry himself.
"Harry?" Ginny's voice seemed to echo around Harry's ears, plunging him into the present.
"Harry? Are you alright?"
"Yes . . . yes, fine . . ." he muttered vaguely as a strong arm hooked onto his.
"I think you should sit down for a while," a quiet voice whispered in breathy sylvan.
"Thank you, 'Kiatom." He smiled at his friends. "Why don't we all sit down?"
They quickly agreed, giving slight glances Nikiatom's way, and when they were all seated, Harry finally felt slightly better. Once they were re- engaged in conversation, Nikiatom slowly disappeared into the crowd, Harry the only one knowing he had left.
"So, Ginny, that's an interesting necklace, where did you get it?" Harry asked after the exploits of Colin Creevey on the Quidditch team had diminished in conversation.
"Oh, this?" She looked down at the necklace she wore.
It was an interesting necklace, to say the least. Black chains snaked their way around the neck to come together at the meeting of something that looked like a night emerald. It glowed slightly in the evening light, emitting a haunting green tone. From there, the chains fell slightly to show a talon clutching a crystal ball. It was very elegant, but did not go with her dress at all. Or, rather, it was so utterly different that it made it something that it hadn't been meant to be. It gave it more edge, a different side to the frilly pink garment.
"I found it at a shop in Diagon Alley. They had said that they got it off of this guy, and quite frankly, they were glad to be rid of it. I thought that it would be a nice change; normally I don't wear jewellry like this. It doesn't really go with my skin color." Ginny explained.
* * *
Later that night, Harry found himself quietly strolling in the Hogwarts gardens. The ball was still going on, he just didn't feel like dancing anymore. Something had told him to venture out into the night, and he found that usually he had a reason to be somewhere when his conscience told him it was important. Sometimes he needed a mental break from the stress of his life; others he needed some peace and quiet.
The gardens were magnificent; he had no idea why it was that most of the time students stayed away from them. They were peaceful. They were exotic. Even tonight, with the rulers of exotic peoples, the flowers and plants stood away from them in all their splendor. He came to the fountain he had been stuck at in fourth year; the fountain that had kept him from leaving and hearing the shocking truth about Hagrid.
"Did you see it?"
The voice stilled him. He stood stock still, listening intently to the voice purged of all light-heartedness that went with the night.
"What did it look like? Who wore it?"
There was silence in response.
"Well? Answer me, Nikiatom!"
Harry furrowed his brows. What on earth would Amadeus need to speak so urgently to his quiet friend.
"You have no idea, do you. Do you!"
"I-I don't know what it is you m-mean, Amadeus." Nikiatom stuttered slightly.
"You know very well what I mean! You were there, Nikiatom! What was it? What did you see?"
"I saw nothing." Nikiatom whispered.
There was a sudden rattling in the bushes. Amadeus had grabbed Nikiatom at the shoulders.
"You were never a very good liar, you know that, don't you?" Amadeus' voice was soft, calm, but Harry could almost hear the fire crackling in his eyes. "I can hear the lie in your mind, I can feel the deceit in your body, you know more than you say you do, Nikiatom."
There was a pause.
"You know a great deal more than 'nothing.'"
The bushes rustled again as Amadeus pushed Nikiatom into them, and the more dominant sylph skulked into the shadows. Nikiatom looked warily about him, then slowly went further into the garden. Harry didn't follow. Something told him not to, and it didn't sound like it came from himself. He shivered, and kept on with his walk, letting his feet decide the way.
It was a night of mystery. First, the strange voice in Harry's mind, screaming to him as he had seen the necklace Ginny bore. Balls were always interesting times; for one night, people felt as though they didn't have to be themselves. For one night, all that was normal in the world was turned upside down. Harry knew that Nikiatom was more than she seemed; he had to be far superior in strength of mind than anyone had expected.
Harry continued his walk, the midnight color of his robes and hair allowing him to walk unnoticed. As per usual with Hogwarts festivities, he caught several teens kissing behind bushes and making the most suggestive of noises; he passed by them, paying them no mind. It was a night of dark treasures; a night of strange alliances. You would think it unlikely that so many people would be having hidden conversations, oblivious to the fact that the sylvan monarch was carefully counting his steps, coming ever closer to the circle of understandable mish mash that would endanger their secrecy. It was in this way that he stumbled upon another whirlwind of conversation; this one not quite as understandable as the last.
"You don't want me as an enemy, but are you sure you want me as a friend?"
"I know very well what I'm doing, don't patronize me in that ever so elegant way of yours."
"It is of my deepest concern that you make sure she is good and dead before that final day is through; it is in your best interests to be loyal, instead of the erratic creature you really are."
"Loyal? This coming from the most traitorous witch known to human kind."
"I am so flattered; really, you needn't be so complementary. I only want to know what it is you are trying to play at. Games are not very well received in any circle of adults. Why didn't you just stay with those children you call your friends? It may have saved me time."
"The 'children' as you so fittingly call them can not get me what I want; from you, I can delve anything."
"So you're dipping your hand in blackmail? My, my, aren't you just the upstart little Slytherin."
"All for you, my elegant wench."
"And what exactly do you know of me that could possibly demonstrate me any harm whatsoever?"
"I know things that would make a grown soldier weep like a lost child. I know things that would silence the ever loose-tongued. I know things that creep slowly up your spine to surprise you at the end of your nervous system. I know things, not just one, but many things. And we like it."
"We?"
"We."
"What is this we you speak of?"
"The only we; the only me. Do you follow my train of thought? For if you don't, I clearly understand your reasoning."
"I know of no other we than my own. Pray tell, you have no idea what it is that my heart desires more than anything; only the mirrors can tell you that."
"What if a mirror did?"
"Then I'd call you insane."
"Insane, am I? You have no idea what insane means to the world; no one does. No one but we. Why is it that everyone is so terrified by insanity? Why don't the insane use it to their advantage?"
"You have my undivided attention."
"Insanity is never really a great burden, it is more of a tool in nature. Why is it that the insane can get what they want?" There was silence for a moment. "Because they are not afraid of showing the world what their mind has told them to believe. Fear is mostly not common in the minds of the insane; it all depends on whether insanity borders off of schizophrenia or if it borders off of maniacal want. The only question there is lays within our reach. Which one are you?"
* * *
Harry hummed a haunting tune to himself as he took off his necklace. Next came his robe-and-dress-like garb, and he folded it over the trunk, quietly leaving it in. As he picked out sufficient sleepwear for the night, the full moon shone brightly on his skin, giving him an eerie pale look. He murmured the words to the song; a nightmarish little ditty that bordered on childish. He turned to the mirror, and saw for the first time that he had forgotten to take off his mask. Slightly disoriented, he unleashed it from his face and left it on his desk. As he walked to the bathroom, he sang, and a second voice joined in. From the reverberations off the walls, and the echo, it was clear that there was only one person there in the bathroom. He was alone.
Wasn't he?
* * * * * * * * * * * *
A/N: I'm sorry that this is so much later than anticipated, but I was also adding major amounts of editing and revising and all that good stuff onto the last chapter. Which brings me to my second point. If you've read chapter ten before but just went straight to chapter eleven this time, guess what? You have to go back and read it again! I added so many new things that you won't understand the rest of the story if you don't read it.
* I just have to make this point known. Fairies do not exist. They are a scaled down version of the real faery, the Tuatha de Dannan. In the Victorian era, people liked to scale things down so that they were easier to control. Faeries were actually rather like the sylphs in my story, but J.K. Rowling talked about fairies as though they were little Tinkerbells in the Harry Potter books, so I have to use them in this context here. The difference in spelling is the key to it all. You know you've come across the real thing when an author spells it 'faery' or 'faerie' instead of 'fairy.'
Rating: Very meek PG-13
Genre(s): Romance, (is there romance yet? No, nothing major, just a warning) Fantasy, Harry Potter (duh)
Warning: This story does include slash (if you could call it that), but that is barely any part of it right now.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, never will, or anything incorporated with it. I am writing this purely out of the pleasure to be filling the time between when the books come out, and I do not disrespect the fact that J. K. Rowling owns this or that Warner Bros. owns the movie(s). Don't file a suit; I'm just a humble writer. Oh, and I may subconsciously quote TV shows or movies, or be inspired by them, sometimes it's indicated, sometimes its not, but you should know that I don't mean any harm.
Chapter 11: Developments
They had arrived in darkness, carefully shrouded against the rest of the school. Their hoods were pulled high over their faces and their hair windswept from the journey. They were quietly and securely ushered to their rooms, while the students slept on, oblivious.
* * *
Hermione was lost in the whirlwind that was the girls' dorms. She had thought that she could stay in her room and get her excess amount of homework done, but aparantly that wasn't going to happen.
As was typical with fifteen- and sixteen-year-old girls, Parvati and Lavender were frantically going through their wardrobes. They had to figure out just what it was they were going to wear, what make-up would be dabbed on their faces, how their hair would be done, what color scheme they should figure for . . . the list went on forever. It was the night before the day of the ball, and tomorrow would be a Hogsmeade day. Hermione was planning to have her hair done professionally, but that was it. Parvati and Lavender, however, were there to do nothing of the sort. They were so worried that Hermione was about to shriek and pull out all her hair and save a few sickles in doing so. She had no one to really impress tomorrow . . . unless you counted Ron.
At first, she had only accepted Ron's invitation with the whim that no one else would ask her and that it would make Harry happy to see them together, even if they weren't officially "dating." Then, it had turned into something else. Hermione was a brilliant girl, and she realized, soon, that she was only going with him (for the ball didn't require dates) because she missed him, and knew that they had always had a fun time. Whether or not they were arguing. From there, she soon realized that her feelings for him had never diminished. It scared her, but she was happy as well. Ron hadn't moved on either; he hadn't asked anyone else to her knowledge. And when Harry had had to leave, they had talked about everything together.
She watched the desperate girls in her dorm talk about such frivolous things, sighed, and went to talk to Ginny, who wasn't as interested in this ball as she was Harry. Besides, Ginny had the sense to know Hermione didn't want to speak of such things; they irritated her. So, Hermione gathered together her things and went down to the Common Room.
* * *
As Nikiatom was unpacking his things, there was a timid knock on the door. She mumbled to himself, going to the door and opening it before she changed his mind.
There stood a very nervous Harry, holding a strange looking box in his hands. Nikiatom, shocked that the monarch had come to visit her, and stood aside so Harry could walk nervously into the room, tucking one lock of hair behind his elegantly pointed ear. Nikiatom sensed that Harry was having trouble knowing how to say what it was that he was trying to say, and decided to help him.
"There was something you wanted to talk to me about?" She asked timidly, lowering his gaze to the ground.
"Yes, there was." That's where this conversation stopped for about three minutes as Nikiatom stared at Harry, and Harry pondered just why he was so nervous.
"Would you like to sit down?"
Harry smiled nervously at Nikiatom, and sat in the proffered chair. Nikiatom sat down on the bed.
Harry had been summoning up the courage to tell Nikiatom this for the whole journey, and finally had it. "I'm sorry."
There was another awkward pause. "Excuse me?" Nikiatom asked delicately.
"I'm sorry. I was a jerk to you; I had no right to treat you that way at the Order meeting. I'm-I'm just terrified that you might be mad at me . . . I don't know if I could bare that. I also brought you this . . ." Harry indicated the box. "They're a candy here, I thought you might like them."
Harry handed the chocolate frog to his companion. She took it, a silent thank you on his lips. She smiled as he saw the chocolate inside it. "I've missed these. How did you know they are my favorite?"
"I had a sense." Harry smiled at him, and let her muse over the chocolate, not knowing what to expect.
"You know that I've been here before." Nikiatom commented. Harry nodded. "What else do you know?"
"Only that you need a friend, that you need to talk about it. You've kept this information so guarded that none of the other sylphs know about it, and if they do, they don't say anything." Harry pondered the blonde sylph. "That's not an easy feat to accomplish."
Nikiatom offered a small smile. "No, it isn't." He studied the carefully designed box in her hands. "They've changed it since I was here."
Nikiatom's striking purple eyes looked at Harry, scrutinized him. "You look so much like James did." There was a pause, as of contemplation. "You deserve to know."
"Before your father left, I was still a young sylph. Terribly young, but not too immature that I hadn't had my first vision. He was like my mentor, he was really what I wanted to be. He was smart, terribly funny, beautiful . . . amazing.
"He took me in after my parents were killed by a spell He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named was trying to perfect. It was done, the Killing Curse strong enough to kill Immortals. He put me under his wing; he was the one that helped me get through it. From there, our leader, Eldrid at the time, wished upon us that we would not emerge into the Free World until You-Know-Who was gone for good. Your father knew what it was he needed to do, and he was brave in doing so. You know that side of the story.
"My side is, decidedly, different. When I was young, I had had a vision; that of your father. I couldn't get it out of my head, I couldn't figure out what it was. Then, one day, after your father had been gone for seven years, I realized it. I was supposed to be the one to love him. In a fit of bravery, I ran to him, I ran into this Free World, and when I saw him, happy, and with your mother, I knew it was too late. He took me in for the second time, telling me to stay for a while. I stayed for a month; I had really missed him. And the night before I was to leave, I finally had gotten up the courage to tell him of my vision. It was silly; I was only eleven. I thought I was in love, but he told me, quietly, so as not to hurt my feelings, that he was supposed to be with your mother - Lily? - and that I'd find someone later. I've been pining ever since, trying to find a way that I could find love, but my chance has passed."
Nikiatom was trembling, in a way Harry couldn't understand. The sylph had never been this open to him, nor had he ever cried. But now, it appeared as though Nikiatom was about to accomplish both. Harry did the only thing that was instinctive to him, and laid a hand on hers. Nikiatom composed himself, then smiled at Harry.
"Have you been edgy lately?"
It was completely unexpected.
"Yes, and that's partly why I was so strict at the last meeting. The bickering was starting to grate on my nerves. Why do you ask?" Harry answered, trying hard not to sound suspicious of himself.
"I think I might know why." Nikiatom looked for an invitation, supposed one was there, and continued. "Your body is just preparing you for some sort of trauma; it's common among sylphs, though not up here. It's especially common among your age category. You should be fully prepared for whatever comes your way from here on out. I thought you might like to know."
"Thank you."
They sat, once again, in a companionable silence, until Harry got up, said his goodnights, and left Nikiatom's room. He had a big day ahead of him, and it was late.
* * *
Harry hugged his arms to himself as he was walking through the corridors of Hogwarts. It was three in the afternoon, and the students were all at class. Hearing footsteps, Harry quickly turned around to meet Hagrid coming down the hall, holding a dead chicken.
"Hagrid!" Harry shouted.
"'Arry? Is that you?"
"Yeah! It's me!"
Hagrid promptly dropped the dead fowl and ran thundering down the hallway, only to sweep the small (as in petite) sylph into his arms, and above the ground. Harry wrapped his arms around as much of Hagrid as he could, and felt something wet fall through the strands of his hair.
"Oh, Hagrid, you don't have to cry, and besides, now I'm starting to cry." He very nearly sobbed.
"It's jus' not the same without yeh, 'Arry, there jus', there jus', yeh can' jus' leave me like that! It's jus' not the same!" Hagrid let him down after about another five minutes, then Harry pointed out the forgotten chicken, and Hagrid had to leave to go to class, but not without giving Harry another hug.
* * *
Ron waited for Hermione to be done dressing, as he was already decked out in his splendid dress robes, and whistled to himself. He had never been patient, and knocked on their door yet again.
"Hermione? Are you almost done?" He called, exasperated, when the door next to the one he had pounded on opened, revealing her in her gown.
He was speechless. It was a deep red, tight at the top, then flowing toward the bottom. The black that went with it as trim circled her waist, and went down in vertical stripes to her feet. It was nothing short of absolutely fantastic. As she turned for him, he saw the plunging back, also with black trimming, and how her hair was elegantly piled on her head in a shower of curls, and he couldn't figure whether it was considered up or done up. When she turned to face him again, she smiled, and he saw that she was wearing make-up, for once.
"Parvati and Lavender did the make-up." It was as if she could read her mind. "Are you just going to stand there gawking, or are you coming with me to meet Harry again?"
Dumbly, he took her hand. She looked at him strangely and linked arms, muttering about how little he knew of such affairs.
* * *
The students were absolutely silent as Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley introduced the foreign leaders to the student body and everyone gathered. The tension in the room palpable, those being introduced were grumbling at the thought that they weren't being paid any mind, no one really cared about the Queen of the Fairies* if no one could see her. Most were dying to see the sylphs; their beauty said to leave that of the Veela in the dust, and we all know how the boys of the school had reacted to Fleur. Besides, the Veela emperess was bewitching enough to the eye to cause several people to stand in a daze.
Dumbledore rocked on his heels slightly, he was also anticipating the meeting with the sylphs, if not just to figure how the students would react to see them. It proved to be far more amusing than the fact he still never received socks for Christmas.
Professor Snape was getting thoroughly bored. He was getting sick of his students staring at him, pointing, and goggling, just because he hadn't spent the entire day getting his hair greasy over the steaming potions. As far as he thought on the whole sylph idea, he had no intention of waiting on the edge of his seat just to see a race that was supposed to be beautiful. After all, he had seen Potter when he was at school, and had not thought of him as anything that special. Besides, he was far too old to be looking at something in a romantic sense; he wasn't that naive.
Professor McGonagall was also thoroughly bored. She wasn't interested in the sylphs, though she was simply sitting on pins and needles to watch them do their form of magic.
Hermione and Ron waited impatiently as the last groups before the sylphs arrived, were introduced, and went to stand behind the teachers. Any second now, they'd be coming. Any second now . . .
Draco scowled in the shadows. It was all he could do. Inside, his body was trembling, all of his own subconscious thought going into not rudely leaving the ball. The tight knot of pent up energy was all that was keeping the tiny voice in check; all that kept him sane as the two major forces within him waged the inward never-ending war. His father was screaming at him, his mind screaming back in an inevitable impasse.
Harry sucked in his breath, tugging at his clothing. Nikiatom saw that he was nervous and went to stand by him. They smiled anxiously at each other, and Harry reached out to his confidante.
Hey. It was all he could send through thought.
Hey. Nikiatom answered, soothing him. Why are you so nervous?
I can feel his eyes.
Whose?
An old enemy of mine; he is more than he seemed, I have learned, and is struggling even to be here tonight.
What was his name?
Draco Malfoy.
Oh. With an unspoken agreement, Nikiatom tucked a piece of hair into place in Harry's braid.
Don't be nervous; everyone loves you. Even Amadeus, although she doesn't show it. And besides, if you desire to, you can hide behind that mask of yours.
Harry sighed; he knew Nikiatom was right.
Why are you always so right?
Nikiatom smiled.
* * *
There was a collective gasp from throughout the hall as the sylphs stepped out from the side room. Harry held his head high, gathered the heavy black material that draped around his ankles. He held his head straight, making sure his nose wasn't high.
He tried to step gracefully while the knowledge that he was in front and the most noticeable of his people spun through his mind. There was a rush of emotion and thought; his rigorous training as a sylph had taught him to read the emotions of everyone around him, and sylphs were much better at cooling their emotions than the people of the free world. They had to, in order to keep some secrets to themselves. So here he was, in the free world, with nothing to guard him from the onslaught of emotion and thought that slammed into his senses.
He smiled as he reached Mr. Weasley and the professors. He bowed low in the sylvan way, and felt the sylphs bow behind him. He heard the announcer speak the name Liamh, but he wasn't really listening. He was scared to the very marrow of his bone when he looked into Snape's obsidian eyes.
Looking back to Professor Dumbledore, he saw that the man wanted to speak with him in front of the group. He complied, and signaled that he was listening.
"It is such an honor to have your people here tonight, since it has been ages since any of our kinds have seen you. We wish to welcome you whole- heartedly into this world."
There was mad cheering, especially from the young teens who were already developing indecent thoughts toward one or many of the sylphs. Most had unconsciously made their way to their feet as they saw the magnificent creatures before them.
"Some, of course, not as much as others." Here Harry glanced over to see the dwarf lord scowling in his corner. He distinctly caught the thought pretty little things that don't know anything running through his mind. As he kept watching, he noted that the lord was muttering to himself, and he laughed lightly.
"We would just like to thank you for coming up here. Potter, our contact in the sylph world has had to jump through many hoops to persuade them that it was beneficial to their futures to participate in this endeavor against the Dark side. Your efforts are sincerely gratified, and we will always be in your debt."
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore, I would like to say on behalf of my people that we are happy to help-" Amadeus snorted "-and to the dwarf lord that we already have several ideas in mind to help, and are eager to hear those of the other candidates. We assure you that we are not just ornamental people with no idea how to do things."
This actually wasn't totally uncalled for; in the dwarf lord's speech he had implied that he thought the sylphs were good for nothing.
"Thank you, Liamh, and the rest of the sylphs, for being here."
Harry went to find his seat next to the dwarf lord, who sank down into the padding of his chair as the elegant figure sat next to him.
* * *
Ron stared at the sylphs. How could something so close to human seem so much more beautiful? Then he saw the leader.
Dressed all in black, she wore what appeared to be a cross between a dress and a robe. There was a piece of fabric that wound around her neck and came down to be tucked into the chest. The top was fairly tight, but an interlocking woven pattern added texture. Her face was painted in a pattern of black and white, with silver pipes coming out to drop a teardrop.
Hermione noticed that Ron took an interest in the sylvan leader (goggling more like), and elbowed him in the ribs.
"What?" he asked in a whisper.
"Where's Harry?"
That, Ron decided, was a very good question. Suddenly, Professor Dumbledore and the sylphs were talking.
"It is such an honor to have your people here tonight, since it has been ages since any of our kinds have seen you. We wish to welcome you whole- heartedly into this world."
Ron cheered loudly; Hermione silenced him with a glare.
"Some, of course, not as much as others." Suddenly, the leader started to laugh harmonically, and her voice washed over those in the room.
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore, I would like to say on behalf of my people that we are happy to help-" one of the sylphs snorted "-and to the dwarf lord that we already have several ideas in mind to help, and are eager to hear those of the other candidates. We assure you that we are not just ornamental people with no idea how to do things."
"Thank you, Liamh, and the rest of the sylphs, for being here." They bowed again, and Ron watched the sylvan leader as she went to sit next to the dwarf lord, who was slowly trying to disappear from sight by way of blending in with his seat.
Dumbledore said a short speech, and the feast was on.
* * *
"I guess I should apologize," Harry said to the dwarf lord. "That was really quite embarrassing, wasn't it?"
"Uh, yeah, um . . ." The dwarf lord looked down at his food, then back up at the sylph. The dwarf lordess sat on the other side, deep in conversation with the Veela countess. She paid them no mind.
"I'm sorry if I made you more uncomfortable than I meant to. I hope we can build an allegiance anyway, and put this behind us, but I just had to get back at you for what you said in your own speech. I know that we didn't show it, but we were all rather hurt."
"You were?" the dwarf lord looked up at the sylvan leader in surprise.
"Well, of course we were. On our first night back, everyone is told that we are just ornamental pretty things, that don't have a mind of our own, and forever our reputation is questioned. I had to do something."
"Oh, I didn't realize-"
"It's no matter anymore. I've forgiven you, and embarrassed you in front of everyone, we are pretty much even. So, what exactly is your plan of action against Volde-do you mind if I say his name?"
The dwarf lord puffed out his chest in pride. "Not at all. I've always wondered why it was that no one ever said it."
"Good. So, what exactly were you thinking for the plan against Voldemort?" Harry leaned into the table, in the guise of spearing a piece of ham, while he was actually contemplating just how much everyone knew about sylphs.
"Well, first of all, I think that we should find out where he is hiding, then storm them with some of my best men-"
"So you are suggesting an outright attack?" The dwarf lord nodded. "On their ground?"
"Right. That way, they won't expect it."
"A daring plan." Liamh looked back down at his food, scrutinizing the dwarf out of the corner of his eye. "But what if we don't know the terrain, and they could be waiting for us exactly where we start from? How exactly would we get away?"
"We'd have to have someone scout the area beforehand."
"Would this be the same person that went out in the first place?"
"Of course, you must always save men for the battlefield in case too many of them die in the fight."
"I see your point. What if the guy doesn't come back?"
"We send another." The dwarf lord, whose name, by the way, was Draelf, looked at Liamh as if he were absolutely dense.
"Who's going to want to go after the first person was already killed, and most especially when they are mutilated. Voldemort, with his sick sense of humor, might even send the body back, and then no one would want to take over."
Draelf looked skyward, trying to work that out.
"It would be by far better to send two people, that way, if one is captured, the other could either come back or rescue, and we'd still have the information. But if the one person is captured, everything is risked."
"Hmm. I like the way you think. So we'd send two people. What else do you see wrong with my plan?"
"I think that you could make it a bit more specific, but it's a rough plan, so we'd need a lot more information about our enemy in order to do it properly."
There was a slight silence as Draelf drank his ale. He looked back at Harry, watching the elegant creature as he ate delicately.
"What was your plan?"
Harry contemplated the question, while chewing his black pudding.
"I haven't really thought about it. I think that I, since I haven't lived here for a year or so, need to be caught up on Voldemort's movements and everything before I can really propose an intelligent plan."
Draelf nodded, and Harry congratulated himself on the new ally.
* * *
Back at the Gryffindor table, Ron and Hermione were craning their heads along with everyone else to see where Harry was, when the feast disappeared, and Dumbledore stood to start the dance. Most everyone got up to dance, and they were left to search on their own, when Hermione rolled her eyes.
"What are you on about?"
"Your friend is coming."
Ron turned, and, much to his surprise, saw that the beautiful creature was making her way over to them. He quickly grabbed Hermione and pulled her onto the dance floor, all the while trying not to watch the dark angel as she was making her way over to them, a small smile on her face.
Hermione twisted in his arms, then tried to hide Ron from view, which was not very successful, as he was about a half a foot taller than her, even with her heels on. And still, the leader of the sylphs was coming toward them.
"Well, that was certainly something I never thought I'd see you two do." The sylph spoke to them.
Hermione turned around, looking confused, "Excuse me, but do I know you sir, uh, ma'am, um, sira'm." She quickly bowed and stopped talking.
"Hermione, I'm surprised at you. Hello, Ron, glad to see you're back together."
"Wait a minute," Ron started to mumble, "You know our names . . . you know we used to date . . . you have dark hair . . ."
"Ron, get there FASTER!" Hermione gruffly ordered. "It's Harry."
"No, its not, his name isn't Liamh." Ron was still very confused. Hermione flicked him on the ear.
"You had a lot of fun with that, didn't you Harry?" Hermione said as attacked him and hugged the air out of him.
"Harry?"
"Maybe it was a good thing you broke up." Harry said, glancing worriedly at Ron.
"Harry? Harry!" Ron shouted, shoving his date out of the way, and crushing Harry's bones worse than Hagrid had when he saw him yesterday. "You prat! Why didn't you tell us you were the monarch of the sylphs?"
"And miss the look on your faces? Of course I couldn't. Besides, it was a minor detail, I didn't absolutely have to tell you, now did I?" Harry offered them an evil little smirk, and Ron hit him on the shoulder.
They laughed, and while the other two weren't looking, Harry let his eyes wander over to the blonde Slytherin who was still scowling in the shadows.
He was wearing a black robe, but it was neither his normal work robes nor the robes that had made him look like a vicar. He looked like he had just gotten out of the bathroom, with his hair slicked back as it always was and his robes that looked mockingly like a bathrobe. They did nothing for him, and it was hardly a mystery as to why he hadn't worn anything nicer for the occasion. Most of the Slytherins looked like they came from Frumpville, and it seemed as if that was their protest against their own attendence of the ball. None of them looked to be having fun, and Malfoy the least of all. He exuded an elegant combination of irritance, mockery, and anger. His eyes were the bluish-gray of a tempestous sea storm, his brows knitted in a menacing scowl.
Is your old enemy the one you're looking at?
Yes, Nikiatom.
Ooh, just lovely. It came out as sarcastic.
Isn't he just? You can see why I never liked him.
Harry saw Nikiatom smile from across the room, and he turned back to Ron and Hermione.
"How's Malfoy been this year? Is he still the insufferable git as he always was?" he asked, glancing once more at Malfoy.
"Yes, like always." Ron rolled his eyes. Hermione turned to Harry.
"Well, I've noticed that he gets this odd pained look on his face when he starts to insult one of us. It's kinda weird. But enough about him. We won't let him ruin our reunion. Where did the name Liamh come from?" Hermione flippantly bent the conversation to her will.
Harry laughed. "Well, contrary to popular belief, my middle name isn't James. Its Liamh, which is sylvan, so when I'm in the Underworld, that is what they call me."
"Really? I always thought it was James, you know, like I'm Ron Arthur Weasley, and Ginny's Virginia Molly Weasley." Ron looked puzzled for a moment. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
"By the way, where is Ginny? I haven't seen her at all tonight." Harry scanned the crowd, but didn't see the youngest Weasley.
"Oh, she's off somewhere with Colin." Hermione explained.
"Yeah, Colin." Ron grumbled.
"What is your problem with Colin?" demanded Hermione. Harry only smirked.
"Well, he's . . . he's . . . Colin and . . . I don't think Ginny should be dating him! Boys of that age have only one thing on their minds!" Ron stuttered.
"Ron, remember last year when we dated?" Ron smiled at the memory. "You were that age."
"Well, I was a lot more mature than Colin has ever been." It was just a bit hard for Ron to defend himself when he was blushing furiously. Harry laughed his mellifluous laugh.
His pointed ears picked up on the rustling of Ginny's dress robes, and she kissed Ron on the cheek like only a sister could and said, "Colin bashing again, are we?" She turned to Harry. "Oh, Harry, I didn't recognize you!" She hugged him, and when she pulled away, he caught a glimpse of her necklace.
It is her; she with the hair of flames and the gown of silk; she is the one who holds the power of our people on her shoulders.
As suddenly as it had come, the mysterious voice disappeared, leaving in its wake the young monarch of the sylphs pale and shaking. What did that mean? Surely Ginny wasn't an enemy? Was she? She had always been somewhat prone to unknowingly wreaking dark magic; her first year had been proof of that. She was a strange girl; she stumbled upon trouble like the vinyard- owners on grapes; she never meant to, but it happened. Then again, the same could be said for Harry himself.
"Harry?" Ginny's voice seemed to echo around Harry's ears, plunging him into the present.
"Harry? Are you alright?"
"Yes . . . yes, fine . . ." he muttered vaguely as a strong arm hooked onto his.
"I think you should sit down for a while," a quiet voice whispered in breathy sylvan.
"Thank you, 'Kiatom." He smiled at his friends. "Why don't we all sit down?"
They quickly agreed, giving slight glances Nikiatom's way, and when they were all seated, Harry finally felt slightly better. Once they were re- engaged in conversation, Nikiatom slowly disappeared into the crowd, Harry the only one knowing he had left.
"So, Ginny, that's an interesting necklace, where did you get it?" Harry asked after the exploits of Colin Creevey on the Quidditch team had diminished in conversation.
"Oh, this?" She looked down at the necklace she wore.
It was an interesting necklace, to say the least. Black chains snaked their way around the neck to come together at the meeting of something that looked like a night emerald. It glowed slightly in the evening light, emitting a haunting green tone. From there, the chains fell slightly to show a talon clutching a crystal ball. It was very elegant, but did not go with her dress at all. Or, rather, it was so utterly different that it made it something that it hadn't been meant to be. It gave it more edge, a different side to the frilly pink garment.
"I found it at a shop in Diagon Alley. They had said that they got it off of this guy, and quite frankly, they were glad to be rid of it. I thought that it would be a nice change; normally I don't wear jewellry like this. It doesn't really go with my skin color." Ginny explained.
* * *
Later that night, Harry found himself quietly strolling in the Hogwarts gardens. The ball was still going on, he just didn't feel like dancing anymore. Something had told him to venture out into the night, and he found that usually he had a reason to be somewhere when his conscience told him it was important. Sometimes he needed a mental break from the stress of his life; others he needed some peace and quiet.
The gardens were magnificent; he had no idea why it was that most of the time students stayed away from them. They were peaceful. They were exotic. Even tonight, with the rulers of exotic peoples, the flowers and plants stood away from them in all their splendor. He came to the fountain he had been stuck at in fourth year; the fountain that had kept him from leaving and hearing the shocking truth about Hagrid.
"Did you see it?"
The voice stilled him. He stood stock still, listening intently to the voice purged of all light-heartedness that went with the night.
"What did it look like? Who wore it?"
There was silence in response.
"Well? Answer me, Nikiatom!"
Harry furrowed his brows. What on earth would Amadeus need to speak so urgently to his quiet friend.
"You have no idea, do you. Do you!"
"I-I don't know what it is you m-mean, Amadeus." Nikiatom stuttered slightly.
"You know very well what I mean! You were there, Nikiatom! What was it? What did you see?"
"I saw nothing." Nikiatom whispered.
There was a sudden rattling in the bushes. Amadeus had grabbed Nikiatom at the shoulders.
"You were never a very good liar, you know that, don't you?" Amadeus' voice was soft, calm, but Harry could almost hear the fire crackling in his eyes. "I can hear the lie in your mind, I can feel the deceit in your body, you know more than you say you do, Nikiatom."
There was a pause.
"You know a great deal more than 'nothing.'"
The bushes rustled again as Amadeus pushed Nikiatom into them, and the more dominant sylph skulked into the shadows. Nikiatom looked warily about him, then slowly went further into the garden. Harry didn't follow. Something told him not to, and it didn't sound like it came from himself. He shivered, and kept on with his walk, letting his feet decide the way.
It was a night of mystery. First, the strange voice in Harry's mind, screaming to him as he had seen the necklace Ginny bore. Balls were always interesting times; for one night, people felt as though they didn't have to be themselves. For one night, all that was normal in the world was turned upside down. Harry knew that Nikiatom was more than she seemed; he had to be far superior in strength of mind than anyone had expected.
Harry continued his walk, the midnight color of his robes and hair allowing him to walk unnoticed. As per usual with Hogwarts festivities, he caught several teens kissing behind bushes and making the most suggestive of noises; he passed by them, paying them no mind. It was a night of dark treasures; a night of strange alliances. You would think it unlikely that so many people would be having hidden conversations, oblivious to the fact that the sylvan monarch was carefully counting his steps, coming ever closer to the circle of understandable mish mash that would endanger their secrecy. It was in this way that he stumbled upon another whirlwind of conversation; this one not quite as understandable as the last.
"You don't want me as an enemy, but are you sure you want me as a friend?"
"I know very well what I'm doing, don't patronize me in that ever so elegant way of yours."
"It is of my deepest concern that you make sure she is good and dead before that final day is through; it is in your best interests to be loyal, instead of the erratic creature you really are."
"Loyal? This coming from the most traitorous witch known to human kind."
"I am so flattered; really, you needn't be so complementary. I only want to know what it is you are trying to play at. Games are not very well received in any circle of adults. Why didn't you just stay with those children you call your friends? It may have saved me time."
"The 'children' as you so fittingly call them can not get me what I want; from you, I can delve anything."
"So you're dipping your hand in blackmail? My, my, aren't you just the upstart little Slytherin."
"All for you, my elegant wench."
"And what exactly do you know of me that could possibly demonstrate me any harm whatsoever?"
"I know things that would make a grown soldier weep like a lost child. I know things that would silence the ever loose-tongued. I know things that creep slowly up your spine to surprise you at the end of your nervous system. I know things, not just one, but many things. And we like it."
"We?"
"We."
"What is this we you speak of?"
"The only we; the only me. Do you follow my train of thought? For if you don't, I clearly understand your reasoning."
"I know of no other we than my own. Pray tell, you have no idea what it is that my heart desires more than anything; only the mirrors can tell you that."
"What if a mirror did?"
"Then I'd call you insane."
"Insane, am I? You have no idea what insane means to the world; no one does. No one but we. Why is it that everyone is so terrified by insanity? Why don't the insane use it to their advantage?"
"You have my undivided attention."
"Insanity is never really a great burden, it is more of a tool in nature. Why is it that the insane can get what they want?" There was silence for a moment. "Because they are not afraid of showing the world what their mind has told them to believe. Fear is mostly not common in the minds of the insane; it all depends on whether insanity borders off of schizophrenia or if it borders off of maniacal want. The only question there is lays within our reach. Which one are you?"
* * *
Harry hummed a haunting tune to himself as he took off his necklace. Next came his robe-and-dress-like garb, and he folded it over the trunk, quietly leaving it in. As he picked out sufficient sleepwear for the night, the full moon shone brightly on his skin, giving him an eerie pale look. He murmured the words to the song; a nightmarish little ditty that bordered on childish. He turned to the mirror, and saw for the first time that he had forgotten to take off his mask. Slightly disoriented, he unleashed it from his face and left it on his desk. As he walked to the bathroom, he sang, and a second voice joined in. From the reverberations off the walls, and the echo, it was clear that there was only one person there in the bathroom. He was alone.
Wasn't he?
* * * * * * * * * * * *
A/N: I'm sorry that this is so much later than anticipated, but I was also adding major amounts of editing and revising and all that good stuff onto the last chapter. Which brings me to my second point. If you've read chapter ten before but just went straight to chapter eleven this time, guess what? You have to go back and read it again! I added so many new things that you won't understand the rest of the story if you don't read it.
* I just have to make this point known. Fairies do not exist. They are a scaled down version of the real faery, the Tuatha de Dannan. In the Victorian era, people liked to scale things down so that they were easier to control. Faeries were actually rather like the sylphs in my story, but J.K. Rowling talked about fairies as though they were little Tinkerbells in the Harry Potter books, so I have to use them in this context here. The difference in spelling is the key to it all. You know you've come across the real thing when an author spells it 'faery' or 'faerie' instead of 'fairy.'
