Title: Holy Ground
Author: Iella (also known as Iphigenia)
Email: sdlee8@cox.net
Pairing: Oliver/Percy
Spoilers: the first four books
Rating: R
Sequel Info: Part of a series, entitled, ÒA Portrait of the Wizard as a Young Man.Ó
Summary: Oliver and Percy visit the ruins of an ancient Roman temple and re-enact a dark ritual. Then something goes wrong.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Note: Following the episode, ÒEnter Adam,Ó this series includes a slight crossover with Highlander: the Series. Although the concept of Immortality will be explained in this episode, it may be helpful for the reader to go to any Highlander web page for an alternate explanation. However, no prior knowledge of the Highlander series is required.
Sanctuary of Fortuna Primigenia, Palestrina (in the foothills of the Apennines east of Rome)
Local time: 2000 hours
The materials had been hastily assembled- water, a stone basin, oil, charcoal, wax, incense, and an aging yellowed Vulgate Bible. Adam had even managed to ÒborrowÓ a few saintsÕ relics from somewhere- Percy really didnÕt want to know where the former Muggle Studies professor had found a piece of Saint GeorgeÕs skull. The altar room had been carefully sealed off with muggle-repelling charms whispered hurriedly in the moonlit darkness, separating the two robed wizards from the distant din of the nearby muggle settlement. Now all that remained were the terrible rituals themselves, magic so old and dark the very knowledge of it ate at PercyÕs soul, corrupting him with its black magic. He closed his eyes, the complicated parts of the divination ritual playing out unbidden in his head. There were three parts to the forgotten rite, mocking the three parts of the Trinity. First came the blessing of the room, both a consecration in the Catholic religion and a violation of Fortuna, the ancient Etruscan mother deity called Fate. This was the balancing element of the ceremony, the unlikely paradox of creation and destruction. It also indicated the nature of the seerÕs question. Because desecration was the primary theme of the overall ritual, it called upon Fortuna to show the seer the way to balance. The second violation was the spilling of human blood on holy ground, emphasizing both the presence of violence and the comprehension of sacrifice. The last part was the ultimate defilement- sex on the altar itself. This was both to provoke an immediate and relevant response, as well as, more practically, to supply the primal energy needed to release the vision. Then Percy, as the closest thing to a Seer they could find on such short notice, would experience the darkness.
The darkness called and beckoned for Percy more than ever before, whispering its sweet temptations of power to him. Would he pass the test? Would he be able to turn down the power offered by the darkness? He had to. Everyone was counting on him to withstand the darkness and emerge with the information. But secretly, he doubted. He was not the great Harry Potter or the late Albus Dumbledore. Yet he could not flee, could not forget his duty. He had sworn his life to the Order, and he would carry out his mission.
So Percy watched, oddly fascinated, as Oliver- as a former Death Eater, his partner knew far more than Percy about dark magic- carefully poured the water into the basin. ÒOkay, weÕre alone,Ó the redhead said impatiently, filling the tense, anticipatory silence with blunt words. ÒNo one followed us. Now talk. I want an explanation, and it better be good.Ó
Oliver sat on the ground, crossing his legs and glancing nervously at the bright, fluorescent digital alarm clock, which glowed brightly in the semi-darkness of the full moon. ÒI canÕt explain it,Ó he said slowly. ÒI donÕt know it all. In fact, I donÕt think anyone knows it all.Ó
ÒTell me what you know then,Ó said Percy softly, sitting down next to Oliver, trying desperately to get a read on his partner.
The Scot stared straight ahead, refusing to meet his loverÕs eyes. He spoke coldly and unemotionally, as if under veritaserum. ÒFor me, it started six months ago. When Ginny saw me kissing you during the Hogwarts attack, it ended up blowing my cover. Draco had to help Snape and I make a hasty getaway.Ó
The initial surprise Percy felt at the confirmation of the kiss flared, then was pushed to the back of his mind, neatly filed for later contemplation. His trained analyst mind took over, noting that OliverÕs account explained the apparent confusion shortly after the Hogwarts attack. The Death Eaters hadnÕt known SnapeÕs location either. ÒYouÕre telling me Draco Malfoy is Inner Circle as well?Ó asked Percy, trying to hide his shock. Nothing Ministry Intelligence had ever intercepted had suggested this possibility. Draco Malfoy had been the perfect head of Death Eater Intelligence, a formidable opponent for the Ministry. In fact, Ministry spies had only confirmed his position last year.
There was a pause, then a slight, almost imperceptible nod. ÒYes. He used the proper code words before turning my cigarette into a Port key,Ó said Oliver, studiously looking everywhere but at Percy.
ÒSince when do you smoke?Ó asked Percy, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Oliver had been a fanatical Quidditch player, obsessed with maintaining his health for the sport. At Hogwarts, he didnÕt smoke, didnÕt do muggle drugs, and only drank in strict moderation.
Oliver hung his head guiltily. ÒPlease donÕt lecture me on that, Percy. IÕm trying to explain. Anyway, because Draco had to Port key us out of there rather hastily, we ended up being sent to the one person whom Draco could trust to take care of us- Adam Pierson.Ó
Percy blinked, his facial expressions more fully under control now. ÒWhy not Harry?Ó Surely, if Draco were Inner Circle, he would know that he could trust Harry Potter.
A shrug- the question had clearly been expected. ÒSnape had location charms on him which had to be removed. Harry has been working on a number of projects, and Draco probably didnÕt want to risk HarryÕs cover.Ó
The Deputy Director of Intelligence- or former Deputy Director by now- nodded, agreeing with the logic. ÒWhat about your Dark Marks?Ó This had been a major stumbling block for the Ministry of Magic in recruiting spies within the Death Eaters. After a few tragedies- namely, the brutal torture and publicly aired executions of would-be traitors Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil- the Ministry had discovered that the Dark Mark also acted as a tracking device, allowing Death Eater Intelligence to track their membersÕ movements. Obviously, this had severely limited their ability to infiltrate the Òrebels.Ó
Oliver hesitated, and then nodded. ÒYes, that had to be neutralized as well.Ó
The redhead frowned. ÒYou canÕt neutralize it. Ministry Intelligence tried. The Dark Mark only stops working when the subject dies or is moved out of range.Ó He winced, remembering how they had figured out that particular detail.
Abruptly, Oliver turned and looked at Percy, his intense dark eyes gazing into Percy. ÒI know. Severus was sent out of range- to Japan, I think. I died,Ó he asserted in a calm, clear voice. He paused, waiting for a reaction
For a while, Percy could only gape like a fish out of water, unable to speak. His rationale screamed in protest, denying OliverÕs words with a library of medical and magical facts listing why Oliver could not possibly have died. And yet OliverÕs very existence contradicted all Percy knew about the Dark Mark. That queer feeling of assurance- the sensitivity, perhaps, that made him the closest thing the Order had to a Seer- rose up within him, quelling his doubts. Oliver was telling the truth, of that Percy was absolutely certain. Finally, he spoke. ÒWait, back up. I thought you just said you died. You seem to be remarkably alive for a dead man.Ó
Oliver smiled slightly, clearly relieved with PercyÕs cautious acceptance. ÒYou heard me correctly. Adam killed me in order to neutralize the Dark Mark. ThatÕs what IÕve been trying to get at- Immortals. ÔThere are those who walk amongst usÉÓ
Percy completed the sentence almost immediately without thought. ÒÉWho cannot die.Õ I believe that quote was about vampires.Ó He looked at Oliver nervously, wondering if he misjudged. Perhaps, he thought in a rising panic, Adam and Justin had not been entirely honest about the exact details of the ritual.
His partner seemed unaware of PercyÕs concern. ÒDo they really walk amongst us, I wonder?Ó he asked, oddly pensive. ÒThey hunt us and prey on us. No, I think the quote more aptly applies to Immortals. Immortals, Percy, are a group of people, men and women, who are extremely hard to kill.Ó
The thought of a certain green-eyed Key came immediately to mind. ÒWait, let me guess: Harry Potter is Immortal on top of it all,Ó Percy groaned. Harry Potter was already connected somehow with every major prophecy set to occur in this century. It would not surprise Percy in the least bit if the enigmatic young mage were Immortal as well.
Dark brows furrowed in thought. ÒActually,Ó speculated Oliver, ÒthereÕs a very good possibility that that is true. It would certainly explain why heÕs not dead yet, what with all the trouble he gets into. On the other hand, Immortals are all foundlings- this would probably rule Harry out, as he most certainly had parents. But I digress. Immortals grow up and are quite ordinary people, if not sterile, until they die their first death. A violent death will activate oneÕs immortality, I think. Then they wake up and see just how far down the rabbit hole really goes. Immortality gives one the expected benefits- eternal youth, supernatural healing powers, etc.- but it also comes with a few catches.Ó
PercyÕs analyst self carefully memorized OliverÕs words, committing them to his mental database. ÒWhich are?Ó he prompted, forcing himself to remain detached from the situation.
OliverÕs chocolate eyes continued to study Percy with unrelenting intensity. ÒWell, I think I mentioned the sterility thing- no children. The other catch is that there can be only One.Ó
ÒOne what?Ó asked Percy, confused.
He was rewarded with an enthusiastic grin. ÒExactly what I said! You see, Immortals are not really immortal in the literal sense of the word. They can indeed die, but only through beheading. Unfortunately, it seems such a beheading results in a great release of energy, power, and knowledge, manifested visually as lightening, which transfers to the nearest Immortal. ItÕs called the Quickening,Ó said Oliver, as if the very word would explain everything.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Percy went back through OliverÕs words. ÒI think I can see where this is going. So Immortals go around chopping off each otherÕs heads in search of this power, this Quickening?Ó
The Scot shifted uncomfortably. ÒWell, not all of them. I certainly donÕt go around looking to kill people, and thereÕs a great deal of other Immortals who do the same. We try not to actively play the Game. But we all know how to defend ourselves.Ó
A brief image flashed through PercyÕs mind, and he tensed. ÒHow?Ó he asked, already guessing the answer.
A sharp sword emerged from OliverÕs robes. Oliver held the blade carefully in his hands, presenting it to Percy. ÒThis is my sword, a nineteenth century British army saber.Ó
Percy suppressed the urge to flinch away from the weapon. He was a scholar, not a warrior like Oliver. And yet here was Oliver, presenting his sword- and by implication, himself- for judgment. ÒAn unusual choice, Oliver,Ó he said, keeping his face expressionless. ÒA Scotsman who wields the instrument of British subjugation. Ironic. But what happens when multiple Immortals gang up on a single opponent?Ó
Oliver stared at the keen blade, clearly remembering past battles. ÒSupposedly, there are a series of rules. All fights are one-on-one to the death, no witnesses. No fighting on holy ground- it doesnÕt matter what religion, only that it was once considered holy by people.Ó
Percy looked down at the blade as well, noting the many miniscule nicks and scratches that indicated recent use. Oliver had killed, he realized, and he would kill again. ÒYou still didnÕt answer my question. What happens if Immortals donÕt play by the rules?Ó
The chocolate eyes snapped up, meeting PercyÕs icy blue ones. ÒThatÕs what my gun is for. Either that, or I flee the scene and run like Hades,Ó he said, his face a mask of grim determination. For a moment, he glared at Percy, seemingly challenging him to criticize the gun. Then the moment passed, and Oliver was once again blank.
ÒOh,Ó said Percy, taking a moment to sift through the influx of information. Oliver had laid himself bare to Percy, and now it was up to him to judge. The decision was made before Percy had even consciously arrived at it. ÒAnd I suppose itÕs no coincidence that you also seem to carry an unusual amount of knives on you,Ó he said, teasingly. Acceptance, offered instinctively but without reserve.
Together, they both winced as they recalled the awkwardness the night before, as Oliver had shed a small arsenal of weapons. ÒVery astute, as always, my dear Weasley,Ó said Oliver, chuckling lightly, but clearly relieved at PercyÕs decision. ÒItÕs rather stupid for an Immortal to carry just one weapon. I like to cover my bases. One last thing- we can sense each other. We get a slight headache anytime we get within range of an Immortal. ItÕs this odd, tingly feeling of warning that only goes away when the two Immortals look each other in the eyes.Ó
That peculiar instinct that led Percy to accept Oliver quieted, and the analyst returned, thinking rapidly to interpret OliverÕs deliberate mention of the warning. ÒThat explains you three this morning,Ó realized Percy, groaning slightly. ÒYouÕre all Immortal.Ó
ÒYes. Does that bother you?Ó OliverÕs eyes flickered nervously down to the timer.
Percy followed his gaze to the timer, the cold sense of dread increasing exponentially. ÒLess than it should, I suppose. IÉÓ He stopped, knowing suddenly that something was off about the ritual. The Darkness would change everything.
The alarm beeped insistently. It was time. It was now or never. No time for thoughts, just action.
Precisely acting out the ritual, Oliver blessed the water in the basin. It didnÕt matter that Oliver had not been ordained. The performance of the ritual by one who had walked in darkness merely added to the desecration necessary for the ritual. From there, he walked to where Percy was sitting, sprinkling him and then the walls with the newly blessed water from the pool as a sign of cleansing. After three Scripture readings (selected in advance by Adam), Oliver turned his attention back to the building and its furnishings. He poured oil over the altar and rubbed it into the stone with his hands. The altar was next covered with the charcoal and wax, to represent the wounds of the crucified Christ, and set on fire briefly to symbolize its purification. From the altar, Oliver went to a wall, placed his hands in a bowl of oil set there, and smeared it in the form of a large cross. Returning to the altar, Oliver censed the altar, a symbol for prayers. Finally, Oliver kissed the makeshift altar, anointing it as a corrupted sign of Christ. The first part of the ritual was over.
Then, suddenly, he pounced. Percy, caught by surprise, quickly found himself laying neatly bound onto of the altar. What a pretty picture this must look like, he thought, scolding himself for not being prepared. Had it been any other person, he would have been able to fight. Oliver made him lose his edge. Percy scolded himself for falling for AdamÕs description of the ritual. He had felt immediately that something was off, but had dismissed the feeling as nervousness and fear of the darkness. Sex on the altar was just too easy, there had to be something darker in such a dark spell. What an idiot he had been to let himself be fooled.
Oliver stood in front of him and gazed hungrily at PercyÕs prone form. Then, just as suddenly, the rabid look of wanting dissolved away, leaving cold determination. This, Percy knew, was the beginning of the part he hadnÕt heard about. Oliver took out an elaborate jeweled dagger and held it to his own right wrist. He looked into PercyÕs eyes. ÒIÕm sorry.Ó
The dagger slid neatly into OliverÕs wrist cutting deep. Blood welled up from the wound. ÒDrink,Ó Oliver commanded, forcefully holding his mouth open. It flowed into PercyÕs mouth, choking him. Oliver began chanting something- for once, Percy didnÕt take notice, being occupied with trying to stay alive. He resisted swallowing at first, repulsed- then something inside him clicked and he was not himself. Fortuna, he realized, feeling her presence flow into him with the blood. He swallowed, giving in and accepting the Darkness. His body convulsed, feeling white-hot pain as the foreign blood was absorbed into his system. Somewhere, he felt the cool touch of metal as Oliver cut his arm lightly, releasing some sort of white mist into the air. His muscles contracted, and he found himself free of his bonds. His body rose of its own volition and pushed an unresisting Oliver onto the bloodied altar. And Percy Weasley welcomed the Darkness with open arms.