Title: Wisdom From The Dark 21
Author: Jyrnn
Spoilers: All four books. Wait, can't say that now can I? Okay, PS,
CS, PoA, and GoF. I'll probably pilfer whatever bits I can from The
Order of The Phoenix. Incidently some of it can fit. Thank you J. K
Rowling. Well except the part about Sirius.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They
are the sole intellectual property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury
Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. I
gain no monetary reward for this exercise and do not intend any
copyright infringement.
Summery: A child has suffered enough, an intruder encounters
unexpected resistance, and the careless words of Voldemort have the
most unexpected results. Harry Potter is about to take a stand.
*...* Direct thoughts
Chapter 21: Delving Deep
Ten stairs down the length of the entrance and Harry was enveloped in darkness. Harry resisted the urge to bolt when the immense gateway to Durmstrang crashed shut behind him. He reasoned that a simple "Alohamora" would be insufficient to even rattle the twin slabs of metal. *No* he reasoned, *There's no going back now.* Oblanskov was silent as if waiting for him to ask a question, if in fact the Bulgarian was still there. Swallowing his pride and the rising gorge of panic in his throat Harry tentatively joked, "Who turned out the lights?" A wry laugh from a few stairs down was his response.
"Wait, you'll adjust to it in moment." Confused Harry waited more out of perplexity than out obedience to his new Headmaster's advice. For a minute Harry's only companion was the palpitations of his heart and visceral hunger in his stomach. He hadn't eaten since breakfast on the train which now seemed a lifetime ago. Then "It" struck him. Without warning or preamble he could see in the dark...sort of. Darkness was replaced with a shimmering blue almost as dark as the shadows. It was as if someone had had painted the cavern corridor with a subtly luminescent paint. Not bright, but no longer dark. Furthermore the dim color seemed to drift in silken threads out from the recesses of the tunnel and embrace Oblanskov, as if welcoming him back. As Oblanskov stepped off the staircase the sullen darkness of the tunnel erupted into activity. More strands seemed to pour out from the darkness of tunnel and for a moment seemed to bury the elder man in blue gossamer shadow. With a startled "Oh" Harry dashed down to the final stair and reached as if too rescue the professor whom he had just met.
Without turning the man began to lecture once more. "This vision is available to only those welcome at Durmstrang." The tendrils of blue-black ceased their frenzied undulating and settled into a gentle drifting, like that of an undersea kelp bed. "An interloper would undoubtedly find himself lost for all light is immediately extinguish, forcefully if necessary. The porous walls are enchanted so that they absorb light, heat, scents, and sound. The inconstancy of the bedrock distorts echoes and vibrations. Everyone is lost here unless they are a friend." Oblanskov did not cease his rapid step, merely walked unabashed through the gossamer strands of ethereal light that permeated and undulated from the walls of the Durmstrang Labyrinth. Harry could do little but hasten his stride and follow as the Hungarian man continued his lecture. At first the young Wizard, too, was engulfed as the strands burst from the walls and grew taught about him as he left the last step of the grand staircase. The sensation he felt was of only a light pressure that ceased almost immediately as it had begun. The tendrils retreated and kept an almost uniform distance from him, touching him only briefly every few steps as if the reassure Harry of its presence. It was an altogether unnerving experience.
"If the walls absorb sound, how can I hear you?" Challenged Harry with a tentative bravado that he did not, in truth, possess. The complete lack of stimuli beyond that which the shadows and the quiet footsteps of his new headmaster had unsettled him. It was easier to loss himself in inquisitiveness than to dwell in brooding solitude. A quick guffaw was Oblanskov's response.
"Our guide, the apparition that envelops us, is named Shadow-silk. It lives, thrives, and guards the every shifting maze in the center of which Durmstrang lies." Oblanskov stated in loud, but unassuming voice. He didn't seem the type to boast, well not about this at least. The dark indigo shadows seemed to pulse lazily, as if the darkness knew it was the subject of its charges discourse "It conducts the sound of our voices so as to make conversation possible. It is also, in part, responsible for the 'light' by which you see. I say in part because it is yourself which the energy comes from. The Shadow-silk draws a minute quantity of your discharged magical aura, alters it subtly, and returns it marking you as one of its protected charges."
"Interesting." Was all Harry could offer in response.
"Indeed, few come this way anymore because of the odd sensation. Also the ancient gateway is too grandiose for daily traffic. Portals, and to a lesser extent portkeys are used yet rigidly regulated." He recited as he lead Harry through a dizzying array of twists and turns. Almost like a briar the blue shadows seemed to close around them. Unfazed by the ethereal nature of the journey, Oblanskov continued with his speech. "Barring some private institutions, you are currently at the doorstep of the most secure magical stronghold in the human world. The Shadow-silk, you see, is the most ancient and the truest defense Durmstrang has to offer. There are wards, as you would expect, but the Shadow's of Durmstrang.....they have away of protecting their own" Oblanskov offered enigmatically.
"What do you mean, sir?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.
Oblanskov looked back and offered an almost feral grin full not of malice but conviction. "They Shadow-silk is not so gentle to intruders. It can probe deeper and drain more than a superficial amount of magic. The protective darkness, Mister Potter, has teeth to defend us." With that foreboding statement conversation seemed impossible. Silence settled over the traveling pair and the Shadow-silk continued its ambiguous, lazy journey through Durmstrang's Labyrinth.
They had been walking for some few minutes when the tunnel began to slope visibly upward. Ahead the Shadow-silk seemed to pool at the dead end to which it had brought them. Oblanskov exhaled noisily in a breath of mixed anxiousness and relief. He quickened his pace and brought up his cane and waved in a semi-threatening manner. Harry just stopped and gawked at the man, who moments before, had lectured to him that shadows were some kind of ultimate defense mechanism. The man erupted in a burst of Bulgarian that Harry's Babel Clasp would not translate. Abruptly Harry realized it was profanity. Evidently he had had not set his language filter since after facing the mob in the German forest. After four minutes of such swearing, the shadows seemed to reluctantly melt away from what it had been obstructing. Situated a meter and a half up the wall was a large, indecipherable glyph. The engraving had long been eroded by the passage of time.
Oblanskov turned back and said in an exasperated tone, "The other fact you need to understand about Shadow-silk is that it can be like a stubborn puppy." With that Oblanskov trailed of muttering about "sulking shadows" and with a sudden, childish "Hah" thrust the point of his cane out to the center of the glyph. The piercing sound of raw rock rubbing against raw rock signaled the opening of a wall. Oblanskov withdrew his cane, cradled it underneath his arm. "By all means young master. After you." With a gesture he pointed into the dark and damp smelling entrance to Durmstrang proper.
*****
Cornelius Fudge had discovered a new curse word. Indeed though it had more than four letters and was actually two worlds did not distract from the vileness of its connotation. All things malicious, whether the fires of hell or a contagious, fatal rash could be summed up in two words: Harry Potter. If he had been a hateful man he could honestly say he hated the child. But he wasn't so he didn't. What irked him though, what positively riled his nerves, was the fact that the boy had caused less trouble blowing- up his aunt and running half-cocked around Hogwarts for four years than the single week he had spent abroad. As he swirled last mouthful of the brandy in his snifter. *The noise outside is really getting intolerable. I really should make a statement.....* mused the disgraced Minster of Magical Britain. Fudge dismissed that idea and opted, instead, to refill his class and ignore the hordes of reporters camped outside his country estate. The wireless spewed the facts of his fall from power in the background as the soon-to-be Ex-Minster drank and drank and drank.
".......ter. Yes, ever since the news of the Boy-Who-Lived's exile splashed across the pages of the Daily Prophet, a veritable firestorm of public opinion has forced the Minister's credibility into question. Though the No- Confidence Vote taken earlier the week still remains privileged, the Minister has not left his country estate since. The discontent emanating from circles in the Ministry, however, hints that Minister Fudge may yet be disposed. Successors have yet to be named. I'm Conrad Jenkins reporting for the WWN on this the fourth day of the Wiltshire Siege.
End 21....Finally.
Author's Notes:
Trust me, the Shadow-silk is going to be important. I'd like to take this opportunity to duck the rotten fruit and random debris I know you'd all love to throw my way. Yes, I am alive and No Wisdom From the Dark is not a dead fic. I was simply too busy the past two semester and far from motivated to continue. But that's over know. My last Exam is a week from today and then I'm relatively free to write. I'd like to express my gratitude to those of you who have stuck by and waited patiently, and in many cases not so patiently, for an update. Note I'm considering a rewrite, of the first four chapters especially. Suggestions are welcome if not always heeded in the final draft.
To my dear, dear reviewers of the past, I hope your still around to knock me back into shape.
Thanks. That means you all: Nighttime Sunshine, peeweepotter Relle, AJaKe, cricket, sil, Zaln, Lady FoxFire, Them Girl, fan, Otaku Freak, Saiyan Seker88, bostonian, ADJ, Webster, Star Mage, Lilybee2003, ZeonReborn, gallandro-83, Paul, pablo5280, Imaginaryfriend, Destruxion, kapies, rosie. Bill Weasly, Myrddin Ambrosius Jr.book worm, litine, clingon87,Siri Kat, pan, potter-man, DaBear, Potatoes, PheonixMan,GREENDAY 9829, Elessar, Jason Gregory, Ides of March, Orion, I)ark/-)ngel, keebler-elmo, Angelis, lollipozz, Sophie W., Sarah Rochester, azntgr01, Facade, Klover, Renee Fay and Rachel A. Prongs. You feedback is greatly appreciated and if I have missed anyone you have my apologies. I consider all of you suggestions and you support makes me want to write more.
Author: Jyrnn
Spoilers: All four books. Wait, can't say that now can I? Okay, PS,
CS, PoA, and GoF. I'll probably pilfer whatever bits I can from The
Order of The Phoenix. Incidently some of it can fit. Thank you J. K
Rowling. Well except the part about Sirius.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They
are the sole intellectual property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury
Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. I
gain no monetary reward for this exercise and do not intend any
copyright infringement.
Summery: A child has suffered enough, an intruder encounters
unexpected resistance, and the careless words of Voldemort have the
most unexpected results. Harry Potter is about to take a stand.
*...* Direct thoughts
Chapter 21: Delving Deep
Ten stairs down the length of the entrance and Harry was enveloped in darkness. Harry resisted the urge to bolt when the immense gateway to Durmstrang crashed shut behind him. He reasoned that a simple "Alohamora" would be insufficient to even rattle the twin slabs of metal. *No* he reasoned, *There's no going back now.* Oblanskov was silent as if waiting for him to ask a question, if in fact the Bulgarian was still there. Swallowing his pride and the rising gorge of panic in his throat Harry tentatively joked, "Who turned out the lights?" A wry laugh from a few stairs down was his response.
"Wait, you'll adjust to it in moment." Confused Harry waited more out of perplexity than out obedience to his new Headmaster's advice. For a minute Harry's only companion was the palpitations of his heart and visceral hunger in his stomach. He hadn't eaten since breakfast on the train which now seemed a lifetime ago. Then "It" struck him. Without warning or preamble he could see in the dark...sort of. Darkness was replaced with a shimmering blue almost as dark as the shadows. It was as if someone had had painted the cavern corridor with a subtly luminescent paint. Not bright, but no longer dark. Furthermore the dim color seemed to drift in silken threads out from the recesses of the tunnel and embrace Oblanskov, as if welcoming him back. As Oblanskov stepped off the staircase the sullen darkness of the tunnel erupted into activity. More strands seemed to pour out from the darkness of tunnel and for a moment seemed to bury the elder man in blue gossamer shadow. With a startled "Oh" Harry dashed down to the final stair and reached as if too rescue the professor whom he had just met.
Without turning the man began to lecture once more. "This vision is available to only those welcome at Durmstrang." The tendrils of blue-black ceased their frenzied undulating and settled into a gentle drifting, like that of an undersea kelp bed. "An interloper would undoubtedly find himself lost for all light is immediately extinguish, forcefully if necessary. The porous walls are enchanted so that they absorb light, heat, scents, and sound. The inconstancy of the bedrock distorts echoes and vibrations. Everyone is lost here unless they are a friend." Oblanskov did not cease his rapid step, merely walked unabashed through the gossamer strands of ethereal light that permeated and undulated from the walls of the Durmstrang Labyrinth. Harry could do little but hasten his stride and follow as the Hungarian man continued his lecture. At first the young Wizard, too, was engulfed as the strands burst from the walls and grew taught about him as he left the last step of the grand staircase. The sensation he felt was of only a light pressure that ceased almost immediately as it had begun. The tendrils retreated and kept an almost uniform distance from him, touching him only briefly every few steps as if the reassure Harry of its presence. It was an altogether unnerving experience.
"If the walls absorb sound, how can I hear you?" Challenged Harry with a tentative bravado that he did not, in truth, possess. The complete lack of stimuli beyond that which the shadows and the quiet footsteps of his new headmaster had unsettled him. It was easier to loss himself in inquisitiveness than to dwell in brooding solitude. A quick guffaw was Oblanskov's response.
"Our guide, the apparition that envelops us, is named Shadow-silk. It lives, thrives, and guards the every shifting maze in the center of which Durmstrang lies." Oblanskov stated in loud, but unassuming voice. He didn't seem the type to boast, well not about this at least. The dark indigo shadows seemed to pulse lazily, as if the darkness knew it was the subject of its charges discourse "It conducts the sound of our voices so as to make conversation possible. It is also, in part, responsible for the 'light' by which you see. I say in part because it is yourself which the energy comes from. The Shadow-silk draws a minute quantity of your discharged magical aura, alters it subtly, and returns it marking you as one of its protected charges."
"Interesting." Was all Harry could offer in response.
"Indeed, few come this way anymore because of the odd sensation. Also the ancient gateway is too grandiose for daily traffic. Portals, and to a lesser extent portkeys are used yet rigidly regulated." He recited as he lead Harry through a dizzying array of twists and turns. Almost like a briar the blue shadows seemed to close around them. Unfazed by the ethereal nature of the journey, Oblanskov continued with his speech. "Barring some private institutions, you are currently at the doorstep of the most secure magical stronghold in the human world. The Shadow-silk, you see, is the most ancient and the truest defense Durmstrang has to offer. There are wards, as you would expect, but the Shadow's of Durmstrang.....they have away of protecting their own" Oblanskov offered enigmatically.
"What do you mean, sir?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.
Oblanskov looked back and offered an almost feral grin full not of malice but conviction. "They Shadow-silk is not so gentle to intruders. It can probe deeper and drain more than a superficial amount of magic. The protective darkness, Mister Potter, has teeth to defend us." With that foreboding statement conversation seemed impossible. Silence settled over the traveling pair and the Shadow-silk continued its ambiguous, lazy journey through Durmstrang's Labyrinth.
They had been walking for some few minutes when the tunnel began to slope visibly upward. Ahead the Shadow-silk seemed to pool at the dead end to which it had brought them. Oblanskov exhaled noisily in a breath of mixed anxiousness and relief. He quickened his pace and brought up his cane and waved in a semi-threatening manner. Harry just stopped and gawked at the man, who moments before, had lectured to him that shadows were some kind of ultimate defense mechanism. The man erupted in a burst of Bulgarian that Harry's Babel Clasp would not translate. Abruptly Harry realized it was profanity. Evidently he had had not set his language filter since after facing the mob in the German forest. After four minutes of such swearing, the shadows seemed to reluctantly melt away from what it had been obstructing. Situated a meter and a half up the wall was a large, indecipherable glyph. The engraving had long been eroded by the passage of time.
Oblanskov turned back and said in an exasperated tone, "The other fact you need to understand about Shadow-silk is that it can be like a stubborn puppy." With that Oblanskov trailed of muttering about "sulking shadows" and with a sudden, childish "Hah" thrust the point of his cane out to the center of the glyph. The piercing sound of raw rock rubbing against raw rock signaled the opening of a wall. Oblanskov withdrew his cane, cradled it underneath his arm. "By all means young master. After you." With a gesture he pointed into the dark and damp smelling entrance to Durmstrang proper.
*****
Cornelius Fudge had discovered a new curse word. Indeed though it had more than four letters and was actually two worlds did not distract from the vileness of its connotation. All things malicious, whether the fires of hell or a contagious, fatal rash could be summed up in two words: Harry Potter. If he had been a hateful man he could honestly say he hated the child. But he wasn't so he didn't. What irked him though, what positively riled his nerves, was the fact that the boy had caused less trouble blowing- up his aunt and running half-cocked around Hogwarts for four years than the single week he had spent abroad. As he swirled last mouthful of the brandy in his snifter. *The noise outside is really getting intolerable. I really should make a statement.....* mused the disgraced Minster of Magical Britain. Fudge dismissed that idea and opted, instead, to refill his class and ignore the hordes of reporters camped outside his country estate. The wireless spewed the facts of his fall from power in the background as the soon-to-be Ex-Minster drank and drank and drank.
".......ter. Yes, ever since the news of the Boy-Who-Lived's exile splashed across the pages of the Daily Prophet, a veritable firestorm of public opinion has forced the Minister's credibility into question. Though the No- Confidence Vote taken earlier the week still remains privileged, the Minister has not left his country estate since. The discontent emanating from circles in the Ministry, however, hints that Minister Fudge may yet be disposed. Successors have yet to be named. I'm Conrad Jenkins reporting for the WWN on this the fourth day of the Wiltshire Siege.
End 21....Finally.
Author's Notes:
Trust me, the Shadow-silk is going to be important. I'd like to take this opportunity to duck the rotten fruit and random debris I know you'd all love to throw my way. Yes, I am alive and No Wisdom From the Dark is not a dead fic. I was simply too busy the past two semester and far from motivated to continue. But that's over know. My last Exam is a week from today and then I'm relatively free to write. I'd like to express my gratitude to those of you who have stuck by and waited patiently, and in many cases not so patiently, for an update. Note I'm considering a rewrite, of the first four chapters especially. Suggestions are welcome if not always heeded in the final draft.
To my dear, dear reviewers of the past, I hope your still around to knock me back into shape.
Thanks. That means you all: Nighttime Sunshine, peeweepotter Relle, AJaKe, cricket, sil, Zaln, Lady FoxFire, Them Girl, fan, Otaku Freak, Saiyan Seker88, bostonian, ADJ, Webster, Star Mage, Lilybee2003, ZeonReborn, gallandro-83, Paul, pablo5280, Imaginaryfriend, Destruxion, kapies, rosie. Bill Weasly, Myrddin Ambrosius Jr.book worm, litine, clingon87,Siri Kat, pan, potter-man, DaBear, Potatoes, PheonixMan,GREENDAY 9829, Elessar, Jason Gregory, Ides of March, Orion, I)ark/-)ngel, keebler-elmo, Angelis, lollipozz, Sophie W., Sarah Rochester, azntgr01, Facade, Klover, Renee Fay and Rachel A. Prongs. You feedback is greatly appreciated and if I have missed anyone you have my apologies. I consider all of you suggestions and you support makes me want to write more.