A Slain Immortal
ASlainImmortal@hotmail.com
Written: November 21, 2003
Read and Review!
Author's Notes: I'm sorry for the delay in writing and posting this, I had the slight problem of getting the flu and was in bed and dead tired this past week. That and a couple of English projects before that. And some laziness. And volunteer work. And so on and so forth, I doubt you want to listen to the excuses. Never fear, though, as this story is important and will not be discontinued barring death or grievous bodily harm to the author, both of which are unlikely considering my position as a high school student… or maybe that is a high risk occupation. Hmm. Anyways, not too much happens in this chapter, though a lot of buildup does. The next chapter will be out in a couple of weeks, or less if homework abates. Also, does anyone know good fan fiction sites other than ff.net? I'm trying to find some good H/H, H/LL, and N/LL fan fiction, and there isn't much on ff.net.Oh, and check www.afireinside.net out. It's AFI's site, and they are the most kick ass band in the world.
Music:
· Kill Me Quickly by Thrice
· Something Vague by Bright Eyes
· Cross Out The Eyes by Thursday
· Ballad Of A Fallen Angel, Cowboy Bebop Soundtrack
· Wake up by Anti Flag
· Operation Iraqi Liberation (O.I.L) by Anti-Flag
· Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes
Disclaimer: The person who, in the main, owns Harry Potter and all related characters is J.K.Rowling. I am not J.K.Rowling, nor am I Satan, who supposedly owns her soul (according to those religious right people… but screw them), so, therefore, I do not own Harry Potter.
There's a dream in my brain
That just won't go away
It's been stuck there since it came
A few nights ago
-- "Something Vague" by Bright Eyes
Red Rose Vertigo
Chapter 3: On the Horizon
Date Unknown. Time Unknown.
It was a black void, a place where there was true blackness – the absence of all color, all light. Had there had been anything here, it would have been impossible to see it in the dark. There was an oppressive silence, a stillness about the place that spoke of things long forgotten, and yet still new. The very atmosphere of the place was one of extreme age yet one of stasis. Anyone there would have thought that the place hadn't changed in the slightest in millions of years.
It had been far longer. The time in which this place buzzed with activity was so long ago that it was beyond the conception of the mind. It dwelt in that realm of inconceivability that was inhabited only by special things, things like infinity, eternity, and the square root of minus one.
Had anyone been observing this place, they would have been shocked ,then, when a bright white light shone from nowhere onto a smooth black floor, and on that black floor, a red rose gleamed. The rose was perfect in every detail, its large red petals soft and gleaming brightly, though still in bud position. The stem was black, as black as the room it was in. It was a luminescent black, though, unlike the flat black of the room, and it reflected the light in myriad glittering shapes. The thorns on the stem seemed capable of slicing flesh simply by touching them, though no one had seen this rose, ever. The rose stood in a crystal stand that looked like a diamond shaped into a perfect stand for the rose. The stand reflected all the light shone on it, the exact opposite of the room, and so it shone so brightly that to look upon it was to become blind. It was a spellbinding scene, though it was a pity no one would ever see it.
The rose slowly began to bloom, revealing sixteen perfect petals. The countdown had begun.
July 18, 1996. 1:22 P.M.
"What the hell is that idiot thinking? Saying this was Voldemort's first activity since his rebirth? What was dad's getting bitten then, a tragic accident?" Though Harry agreed with Ron's words, the phrase "tragic accident" brought forth memories of Umbridge, and he could repress a shudder only with considerable difficulty.
"He doesn't want to have to admit that Dumbledore was right all along. He's just going to pretend Voldemort has been alive but inactive or on the brink of death all this while. It looks like Fudge is as stubborn as ever, then." These words of Hermione's brought forth no sound from the boys, though that was probably because a phoenix had just burst through the window. Attached to its leg were a small package and a note from the only person Harry knew would ever have a phoenix.
Dear Harry,
I'm sorry I didn't reply soon to you, but I was worried about the Order. I understand that you don't forgive me, but at least you trust me, which is a start. I am writing to tell you that not only did I get your letter, but that I will not be able to reply to any owls for at least a month due to the fact that we will be strengthening the wards here at Hogwarts (It didn't say who we was, but Harry knew it was the Order). If you need anything, there will always be someone at Headquarters.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
P.S: Your birthday present is coming with Fawkes, too. I think you will enjoy it.
The package was wrapped in purple paper with silver stars on it. Sighing slightly at Dumbledore's sense of taste, Harry opened it and gasped. Inside was a small red ring. Attached to it there was a note.
This ring belonged to Sirius. It was found in his vault. The ring has no identifiable magical characteristics, but I believe there may be intangible benefits to wearing it. It is up to you what you want to do with it. This ring was obtained illegally, it technically belongs to the Malfoy family, as does all the other Black property. HQ is safe though, we have too many spells on it.
Harry said nothing to either of his friends, simply putting the ring on and lying down on his bed. Ron and Hermione scrambled for the note, and on reading it they looked over at Harry, the familiar concerned expression resting on their faces. Harry just looked steadily at them, hating the expression. They turned away.
July 25, 1996. 1:47 P.M.
Ginny Weasley sat in her room at Order HQ. She wrote a letter with one of the most hideously evil smiles on her face that anyone had ever seen.
Dear Ron,
This is your dear sister Ginny. I just wanted to write to you to give you some absolutely excellent news. The first bit of it is that I'm not really dating Dean. I only said that to piss you off, insufferable git that you are. Here's the even better part of the thing: I'm actually dating Neville. I'm sure that by now you're planning to dismember him for "ruining your sister", but let me assure you that if you make life difficult for Neville, I will never speak to you again. I will also fix it so that you can't have kids with Hermione like you've always wanted to. Oops. I suppose I shouldn't have written that. It'd be horrible if Harry or Hermione read that, wouldn't it? I really hope I don't mistakenly tell Harry, or even mail this to him by accident. That would be a terrible shame, now wouldn't it?
Your Loving Sister,
Ginny
Humming softly to herself, Ginny gave the note to her new owl, Silver. True to his name, Silver was a sparkling gray owl. He hooted softly and took off. Ginny went over to Neville's room.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were engaged in that classical summer pastime of doing absolutely nothing. Not only were they doing absolutely nothing, they were doing it in spectacular fashion as well, with Ron and Hermione swinging on the swings, and Harry asleep on the grass, with the warm summer sun in his face. A slight breeze fluttered his hair, and he was awoken by the sound of several expletives (coming from Ron's mouth) that would have made Mrs. Weasley smack him.
"What the fuck is this? That bloody bastard is dating my goddamn sister!! When I get my fucking hands on him, I'm gonna rip his fucking head off!" Mercifully, Ron was silenced by Hermione smacking him. Harry took in the scene with sleep-dulled eyes, and as he became more awake, he realized this was one of the funniest things he'd ever seen. Ron was clutching his cheek, a large red imprint of a palm there, and a gray owl was fluttering on and off the swing set. Hermione, for her part, was looking somewhere between reproachful and mortified. A letter lay on the ground in between them. Striding over to the two of them, he heard the words "Neville…Ginny… I'll kill him!" and pieced together the situation. He bent down to retrieve the letter, but Ron snatched it up first and tore it into tiny pieces.
"Neville better be careful from now on" Hermione whispered to Harry. Ron glared at the two of them.
"Ginny better watch her back too" he said, and the three of them made their way back to Number Four.
Harry found two letters waiting for him on his bed. Ron and Hermione were somewhere in the house, and Hermione had said she was going to her room for a moment, so he was alone. Hermione slept in the guest bedroom, which caused a problem for Aunt Petunia. She was loath to let anyone, much less a witch, use that bedroom, but the idea of a girl sleeping in a room with two boys, all three of the adolescents, was enough to make her faint. Harry could well imagine what she thought of that idea. The first letter was in a pale silver envelope, and he decided to open it first. A letter written on pale blue paper fell into his hand, with a lot of writing in a darker shade of blue. He sat down and began to read it.
Dear Harry,
Nice to hear from you. I'm sorry about the interval between letter and response, but I only just got back from our holiday in Sweden, and I found a lot of mail waiting for me. We didn't get a picture or a live Crumple-Horned Snorkack, but we did find some tracks near one of the lakes. Daddy's getting another article in The Quibbler soon. Did you know that Crumple-Horned Snorkacks are well-known in Sweden? A man I met in Stockholm told me that in the far north, where it gets very cold, there are reported to be herds of the Snorkacks. It's fascinating, really.
I was touched by your letter. The man who died in the Department of Mysteries - he was your godfather, wasn't he? I remember how I felt when my mother died. I saw her die, you know. She had the most wonderful expression on her face. It was kind of a feeling of expectation, really. Don't worry about him, Harry. He is with his friends and loved ones now. And he will always remain with us, in our hearts. You won't forget him, and neither will anyone else who was with us that night. BE glad you have someone like that, willing to die for you.
Also, all my stuff that got stolen on the last night turned up again. It was rather curious, really. Anyway, I must go now, so write back to me.
Your friend,
Luna
Much as Harry appreciated Luna's letter, he wished she hadn't reminded him about Sirius. He had been in such a good mood before. He looked at the ring on his little finger, and sighed. Mulling over Luna's ability to switch topics from serious to mundane without any adverse effects, he picked up the other letter. This one was written on plain paper in black ink, and had only thirteen words on it.
We will pick you up one day before your birthday at 11:00 A.M.
Ron and Hermione were downstairs, trying to make lunch using only Muggle methods. To any observer, the scene would have been hilarious. Hermione, never one to cook much, was doing fairly well at making some spaghetti. Ron, however, was extraordinarily clumsy, and had nearly set the kitchen on fire. Only some quick thinking from Hermione had saved the house from burning. The Dursleys' refused to make food for the Trio, and they trio didn't want to eat with the Dursleys', so things worked out fairly well. They had the radio on as well, and Hermione could hear some stuff about how the President of the United States was coming to Britain. Humming lightly to some jingle on the radio, she turned back to the stove.
July 30th, 1996. 10:45 A.M.
The three of them stood in the living room of the Dursley house, while Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley sat stiffly on the couch. No one was sure how the Order was going to arrive. Harry knew they would be inconspicuous, but he had a lot of difficulty convincing Vernon that this was the case. Petunia sat with no expression on her face, and Dudley (whose experiences with all things wizarding had not been pleasant in the least) cowered in a corner, his massive bulk quivering in a disgusting manner. Harry could barely suppress his laughter, and Ron and Hermione were doing an even worse job, with frequent shared looks causing them to burst into laughter. Vernon then proceeded to glare at them, which only made them laugh harder.
At exactly 11:00, the doorbell rang. Harry went to open it, and saw a man of average height, with thinning hair standing in the doorway. The man had a toothbrush moustache eerily reminiscent of Bartemuis Crouch, Sr., and was wearing a dark suit with a plain black tie. He was the image of respectability. When he spoke, Harry was shocked to hear Moody's voice issuing from his mouth.
"Stop gawking, Potter, and let me in." Harry, who had had fairly little contact with the wizarding world over the summer, was shocked into reality by the voice. A mad thought flashed through his mind.
"Prove you really are Moody." He said boldly, looking directly at the man. The man smiled, though it wasn't the hideous Moody smile, but a small one that quickly receded as if it was not welcome on the normally grave face.
"Good thinking, Potter." The man stepped inside and shut the door, and in full view of the Dursleys, he melted away into Mad-Eye Moody, complete with wizards' robes. The Dursleys' made the usual squeaks and sputters at the sight of magic, and Vernon began to puff up on seeing Moody, who had threatened him at King's Cross.
"You! You—you and your kind aren't welcome here! Take them and leave! Hurry!" Moody looked steadily at Vernon, then at Dudley, who was quivering much harder. He smiled a little. He casually stuck his middle finger in the air, and proceeded to wave it in Vernon's face. Turning to Harry, he told them to get their stuff. On seeing that all was ready, he took out his wand and waved it at the three of them, concentrating all the time. Harry looked at Hermione, as if searching for an explanation, but was shocked to see her replaced with Petunia. Hermione's voice came forth though, and Harry realized this was an illusion, just like Moody's banker image. He became aware of the considerable noise issuing from the Dursleys at being given the finger, and also seeing copies of themselves where three young wizards previously stood. Moody shifted into his banker image, levitated the trunks, and turned them invisible. Casually flicking off the Dursleys' once more, he walked outside, disguising his wand cleverly.
Harry/Vernon, Hermione/Petunia, and Ron/Dudley followed. Outside was a medium-size black car. Moody opened the doors, and the three got in. Without removing his disguise, Moody began to drive the car away form Number Four, Privet Drive.
The ride was fairly cheerful, though it became less and less so as they neared London, and therefore Grimmauld Place. They couldn't stop ogling their new bodies with a kind of amused disgust, Ron in particular. Moody said very little, concentrating on fooling anyone who might be stupid enough to tail them, as well as trying to keep the "damn Muggle contraption" on the road.
After about an hour and a half, they came to Grimmauld Place, and Moody cast another spell that made it seem as if the Dursleys got out of the car with the banker, and the car waited patiently with a chauffeur inside. The Dursleys then went to a mailbox and opened it, taking something from inside, then got into the car again and drove away. The reality was, though, that the "Dursleys" and the banker stepped into a house that appeared out of nowhere, and the door shut behind them.
Had there been any telepaths around, (which, thankfully, there weren't) they would have picked up the dark, sad, and angry thoughts radiating off "Vernon Dursley" in waves.
End Notes: I love the scene where Moody flicks off the Dursleys, I can just picture them gaping in shock while the others calmly walk away. Um… other than that, not much to say really, I just have an obsession with roses, hence the use of the rose for the prophecy. In fact, my desk in my room has roses on it. There's this thing you can do where you cut off the bottom of the stems and the put it in some water with food coloring in it, and the rose will change color. I put in black food coloring, so I have these awesome red and black roses. So, yeah, that's about it.
Random Stuff: My hair was briefly a deep purple streaked with blue. My brother's school had a carnival, and I heard they had hair dying, so I went over there and got it dyed. My mom was PISSED when she saw it though, it was rather funny.
Next Chapter: Lots of fun stuff! It'll be a long chapter, that's for sure. Reactions to Grimmauld Place and its inhabitants, A few surprises in the SHIP department, and lots of emotion. I think you'll like it if you didn't like the boringness of this chapter.
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The End
(for now)