Chapter 13 – The Lone Survivor
Hurried footsteps followed the young woman through the dense undergrowth of the forbidden forest. Her own swift pace seemingly no match for the dark, soulless shadow that pursued, gaining with every misplaced step she took, striking fear into her. She'd dared not look back. At the first sign of danger she'd been fleet of foot, tearing off into the undergrowth whilst abandoning her fellow survivors, who'd all been spared the terror of Hogsmeade's destruction. Oh how horrible it had been. The sky rained fire like never before seen. The only sounds that accompanied the bone shaking explosions that rocked the town, were the equally chilling screams of terror. Women and children who were innocent, and had done nothing wrong, being caught within the crossfire of a war they were not apart of. Being dictated by an enemy they could not see. And she was the last one left alive, she was sure of it.
Craning her neck briefly, she saw to her fear the pursuer, a lithe mass of shadow that almost seemed to leap between each patch of darkness she passed, all the while a dull glint of tainted metal remained held at it's side, deadly intent squared on her. She was being stalked, and she'd never been more afraid in her lifetime. Throwing all caution to the wind, she pulled her wand from within her cumbersome robes and yelled out a spell behind her.
'REDUCTO!' she cried, a spiraling stream of energy erupting from her wand towards the pursuer's shadowy silhouette. Her aim was true, the spell struck it's target on the full, sending it flying some five meters back into the undergrowth with an audible crash. Momentarily surprised by her own good fortune, she didn't see the protruding tree root that existed menacingly in front, ensnaring her foot as she ran over it, sending her to the ground with a thud. A sharp wound held her as she clutched her stomach and writhed on the forest floor, the wind having been knocked out of her by the fall. Time felt like an unending feeling of throbbing pain for a few brief moments as she desperately tried to recover. Behind her though, in the bushes, the one that followed her had shakily gotten to their feet and began making their way precariously towards her.
Frantically she clawed for her wand… "Where is it!" she thought hysterically to herself, as she fumbled through her robes. Her masked assailant trudging woefully onwards, nearing where she laid sprawled across the ground, quickly gathering his bearings. She still couldn't find her wand. Her tenacity intensified, and she suddenly spotted it lying a few feet from her, half covered by dead leaves. Crawling madly towards it, she opened one begging hand to grasp her only hope. The one object that stood between her and certain death. But in this most terrible moment, as she was poised mere centimeters from seizing her salvation, a solid, heavy boot came down onto her arm, pinning her to the ground.
She struggled vainly, trying with all her strength to break free of her stalker's iron hold upon her. Yet it only seemed to infuriate the pursuer more, who pulled a long serrated knife from his belt. It's sinister yet beautiful form in the half light of the forest belying it's true purpose, which she felt remained with her. "I'm going to die!" she thought horribly to herself, snapping her eyes shut, not wanting to see her own demise stare her in the face. A sudden rustle from the bushes quickly caught the man's attention, and the stalker's head snapped about to see the source of the noise.
With wand outstretched and walking hazily toward them, a limping figure emerged from the shadow, his disheveled form revealing a number of deep gashes to his right leg, his robes torn from the wild unchecked growth of the trees around him. With a steely glint in his eyes he looked directly towards the shadowy man that had hunted the woman so efficiently, before uttering a few choice, yet direct words.
'Leave this woman, your fight rests with me muggle. I'll see you dead before this night ends…'
The woman on the ground looked up hazily, the pain in her arm from the man's tough boot becoming evident to her. Yet in the shadow she made out the wizard that spoke with such chivalry.
'Charles?…'
Far from the twisting masses of seemingly dead trees, wizarding folk both young and old walked about their business, not stopping to rest out of anxiety for the future. Every waking moment seemed prolonged as the masses of robed witches and wizards stalked about Hogwarts corridors, their heads lowered in some fearful expression of their true thoughts. No one knew what was going to happen to them all. With Dumbledore's mournful speech to the school populous, teachers had begun rounding up all the students who believed their fate was to protect Hogwarts. Despite the fear, an incredible number beyond comprehension had volunteered. Their triumphant yells echoing throughout the great hall as they stood to some kind of attention, as though their meager knowledge of magic could somehow aid the wizarding world.
Much of Gryffindor had taken the charge, the bravery which told all Gryffindors apart making the up the majority of the volunteers, eager to do their share. Unsurprisingly, the Slytherins showed a very distinct lack of interest, those few who did join the rabble seemed only intent on teaching the muggle aggressors a lesson worth remembering. A lesson of which, brought many frowns where ever it was heard, yet never threatened to dull their evil spirit. What was clear however, was that not everyone in the houses thought anything good enough about Hogwarts that was worth fighting about. A large contingent of muggle born witches and wizards had neglected joining the volunteer ranks. Undeniably, this was seen as sheer cowardess by many, and the fact they were muggle borns seemed to intensify rumors further that they were as had been suggested before, acting on behalf of the enemy.
Harry heard rumors this way and that about the muggle borns. Though his interest often wavered whenever the topic was mentioned. Only a few short years ago, Harry had no knowledge that wizards ever existed, despite being of wizard blood himself, not to mention the fact that some of his best friends, including Hermione, were also raised by muggles. Which begged the question as to why these children's collective knowledge wasn't being utilized more thoroughly.
McGonagall had taken up charge of organizing all those who were willing to participate in the castle's defense, lining them all up in rows in the great hall so their combined strength could be assessed and their abilities measured by the teaching staff. In more simple terms, to find whether or not they were capable of defending themselves. Marius would've been proud. And yet few past the rudimentary tests that were set to determine this. Those that failed, immediately left the great hall, feeling somewhat slighted, yet ashamed at the same time for their own lack of ability. It had become quite clear that Dumbledore was more than willing to keep all the school students in a far safer place than the battlefield, and the tests of magical prowess that he organized were reflective of this.
Gradually as the hours past by and daylight slowly gave way to the ominous night, the numbers of students who were prepared to defend at all costs had dwindled considerably. No more than forty students remained out of some three hundred that had originally shown up. These were the ones who's parents were either dead or too far off to be any assistance to them, or who's magical ability far outmatched that of the common student. Harry was one of them. Hermione, another. And they were organized into ranks according to their abilities, so they could be used in the most effective manner. It was all too much for the parents of those who were chosen when the organization had finished, the chosen, beginning a march though the castle as the first real wizard army, if forty students could be considered that. The same resounding fact becoming apparent to a few of the students as well, who were unaccustomed to behaving like soldiers and were really only just beginning to leave childhood now. The sad faces on their parents faces making some second guess, and ask themselves why they were doing this, risking their lives in war when other far more experienced witches and wizards were making the exact same commitment… Why?
Dumbledore had begun showing signs of his resentment towards Hogwarts' state of affairs. Large worry lines had started to appear on his face, the usual twinkle in his eyes dimming to nothing more than a faint glimmer. His entire attitude to students also altering dramatically. Sure he still supported them all to the best of his abilities, but despite Marius's confidence in their combined magical strength, Albus seemed to feel that the castle was in for perhaps a far greater battle than had at first seemed apparent. This was no more emphasized when his chosen batch of students had been moved into their respective ranks to support the legions of Heliopath troops that had been gathering in large numbers on the school grounds. There was no happiness on his face whatsoever, the very notion of sending children to fight a war seemed an absolute horror to think of. One who knew him best could say he was wracked with guilt that in spite of his extensive knowledge and wisdom, he was thus far unable to find a reputable solution which did not involve sending children into battle. Oh what shame.
To build up for his lack of self confidence, Albus spent his time secluded in his office, pouring over pile after pile of ancient magical books so as to find a full proof way of defending the castle from attack. It seemed fruitless however, his search so far yielding nothing of value. But his determination seemed resolute. He did not stop turning the pages of script, his full concentration so focused on lines of text and ancient runes, that he could not bring himself to answer those who wished to speak to him… not even Marius. Yet in all frustration that had pierced his calm and collected exterior, Albus could not hide his joy at once again reading books he had neglected for so long. Returning to his roots, in as most aptly a way to put it.
Time moved differently in Dumbledore's office. There was rumor passing between the teachers that he'd made use of a time turner to increase his working abilities, but the old man never admitted to such a thing, but didn't deny it either, despite moving through entire piles of books in only a few hours. Magic was definitely being used, it was certain. Of course it was not the teacher's place to ask what he was doing in their by himself, so they all kept their opinions to themselves. It wouldn't have mattered in any case if they were furious about his seclusion, the headmaster had placed some sort of seal on his office that prevented anyone entering without his permission, an echo of Dolores Umbridge's futile attempts of entry the year before coming back full strong. One could not help but smile at Albus's own need for privacy that no one could go near him… or could they?
Dumbledore remained working constantly behind his desk, practicing a myriad of spells and incantations, none seeming to fit his requirements, when the apparent silence was suddenly broken as the room slid in and out of focus for a brief moment, before a single Heliopath materialized in front of him, it's arms crossed over it's chest in protection of something Dumbledore could not see. The old man raised a single suspicious eyebrow.
'And may I ask why it is you've decided to enter my office so unannounced?' Dumbledore spoke in his calm, but now rather strained voice, as he eyed the fire spirit warily.
For a moment the Heliopath did nothing but stand motionless, fixing the old wizard with a brief, fiery glance that confirmed it had news most important.
'You must forgive my lateness headmaster,' the Heliopath began in a low, drawling voice, steady columns of smoke rising through it's cloak, 'but I found it increasingly difficult to gain access to your office…' and at once it let it's arms lull to it's sides, revealing to Albus's surprise a young woman unconscious behind the spirit's cloak. Without the Heliopath to support her, the lady's body fell to the floor with a resounding thud, drawing both their attention.
Dumbledore moved about from his desk and kneeled down to her, a questioning look appearing on his face.
'And of what whereabouts did you find this woman?' the headmaster asked, a sudden look of knowing spreading across his face.
'One of my kind discovered her lying at the edge of the forbidden forest, with innumerable wounds…' it answered promptly, all the while Dumbledore searching her robes for her wand, 'Though her physical wounds were able to be healed at once, her conscious mind has been moving to and from reality for well over three hours…' Dumbledore continued to examine her carefully letting the spirit drone on, not really taking in anything it said, before he stood up and looked to the Heliopath directly.
'You can be assured that I will tend to this matter personally, I thank you for your speed.' But just as Albus turned, the Heliopath made for him again, determined to hold his attention.
'Forgive me once more headmaster,' the spirit interrupted the old mage, turning him about, 'but I am concerned with matters at this time. My subordinates are confused and agitated…'
Dumbledore listened obediently.
'Many of us are well aware of the burning of Hogsmeade. Our non corporeal spies there report the entire town being overrun by muggles within an hour of it's destruction and have entrenched themselves at the location… Now by all rights, they could have attacked this castle hours ago, and yet they have not. Am I not correct in assuming the wards protecting this castle have dissipated at last?'
Dumbledore nodded solemnly.
'Then why is it they have not yet attacked us?! Tell me that headmaster, the Heliopath clans stand irritated by this lack of conflict, they hunger you see, it has been many centuries since the last wizard muggle war. We have not tasted such blood for too long now.'
Dumbledore stared emotionlessly at the agitated fire spirit, his own eyes holding enough strength to keep the malevolent being at bay.
'For that Aandrak I am afraid I have no answer,' he suddenly shot the young lady a quizzical look, her disheveled form still lying unconscious on his floor, 'However, perhaps she may yield some answers yet. I will query her about it Aandrak, she may yet be the last of Hogsmeade's residents, so rest easy. I will report to you what I can when answers reveal themselves.'
The Heliopath seemed highly disgruntled by this and it gave Albus a long, shallow hiss, the fires in it's eyes burning more intensely than before, but it held it's tongue, and merely bowed respectfully before dematerializing out of the room, leaving Dumbledore alone to tend to the lady, a weary frown stretched across his face. Dumbledore took out his wand and muttered a counter spell, his office glowed suddenly and dimming once more. And within a few minutes, Marius appeared before him, McGonagall and Snape following through the entrance not too long after, all staring questionably at the lady who was sprawled over the floor.
'Who is this? What is she doing here?' McGonagall asked impatiently, but still glad to finally be admitted access to Dumbledore's office after so long. The headmaster kneeled down to the lady once more and using his wand, pushed several locks of long and curly, blond hair from her face. Leaving McGonagall and Snape to gasp. Dumbledore nodded acceptingly, looking to the young lady's face with a hint of dismay.
'Madam Rosmerta…' Albus said slowly, before turning to Snape. 'I may need some Veritaserum from your stocks, if you would be so kind.' Snape nodded after looking to the unconscious woman and quickly left the room. Dumbledore looked to McGonagall and Marius, who were both standing there looking rather slack jawed.
'She was brought in a mere moment ago by a Heliopath.' Albus said to answer their questioning looks, 'Apparently she was found at the edge of the forbidden forest… now, evidently she is one of the survivors of Hogsmeade. Only some intuitive interrogation will tell for sure. And it may be of great value to us to learn from her. Aandrak tells me afterall the majority of the Heliopath army is becoming restless. They demand news of when the muggles will attack. Thus far we've heard nothing credible, and the apparent lack of survivors from Hogsmeade has been rather disconcerting to me.'
Marius and McGonagall exchanged several concerned glares between each other as the headmaster arose from the floor, dusting himself off. Marius seemed rather unusually uptight and looked to Albus with an air of unease.
'Something on your mind Morheim?' Dumbledore asked the old man curiously. Marius looked back quite embarrassed.
'The thought has occurred to me,' Marius began, his voice quavering slightly, 'That should the muggles not attack soon, the Heliopaths may revolt against us… Now I don't presume to know exactly how the mind of a fire spirit works, but based on my experiences, they will not stand with us if they feel they've been made fools of, regardless of who summoned them. My main concern regarding this is that we may lose them before the battle begins, and I believe I am correct in saying they're the majority of our strength at the current time. The students dare I say can barely fend for themselves let alone have the stomach to offense against well trained muggle soldiers, and it is well known the magic imbued deep within a dragon's hide make them rather… temperamental. So what do we do Dumbledore if the Heliopaths do break free of us? Is there any way left after that to win the war?'
Dumbledore looked to him rather ashen faced, but with that all too common knowing expression.
'That possibility has occurred to me before Marius. And should it happen, we will do nothing, the war will be lost… we will be lost. If not by the weapons of our muggle counterparts or by the fire the Heliopaths worship, or even by the killing curse of our death-eater enemies, this war will be over and we shall be nothing more than a ripple in time when our voice becomes little more than a faint, distant, memory. It is therefore imperative that we learn as much as possible from young Madam Rosmerta here, for an enemy can be deadly, but an ally turned foe, even worse…'
Snape re-entered the room carrying a small, clear vial that he handed to Dumbledore, who once again kneeled down to the young lady, before inserting three well placed drops into her mouth.
'It is imperative therefore,' Dumbledore continued, letting the clear liquid sink in, 'That we extract every possible detail from her that we can. Hogsmeade was a terrible loss, and if we don't use Veritaserum, she may be afraid and not be so willing to tell us of what has happened.'
He deftly pointed his wand to the her unconscious form and muttered a spell.
'Enervate…'
The lady's eyes slowly flickered open gradually, and she took in those around her with a sense of awe… the faces about her seemed familiar, she knew that much, but where was she? The thought burrowed about in her head for a moment. The last place she remembered being was amongst a group of trees in total darkness… where was this place?
A calm voice suddenly wafted over her as she sat upright, rubbing her forehead.
'Can you hear me?
Snapping her head about, she stared open mouthed at the old wizard before her, not quite capable of saying anything. But even if she could, her mind seemed to be reeling, and precisely what she could say eluded her. She just stared mutely, not to Dumbledore's surprise.
'Y… Yes.' She choked out, forcing the words from her mouth. Albus nodded sympathetically.
'Madam Rosmerta, why were you found on the border of the forbidden forest?' Dumbledore asked, a calm emptiness enveloping the room at that moment. The young lady faced the floor, straining her mind. Why was she found there? Perhaps she'd once known, the answer escaped her, but she could feel her mind desperately trying to recall the subject from memory, a clear sign the Veritaserum was beginning to do it's job. But as hard as she tried, nothing was recalled. So she sat silent on the floor, clearly frustrated that her mind wouldn't work properly.
Dumbledore seemed rather disappointed by this but shook his head acceptingly.
'Perhaps we should give you some time. Yes… time would help a great deal.' He spoke empathetically, drawing a curious stare from the lady. 'Minerva, see that Madam Rosmerta is taken care of, I wish to be informed the very moment her memory returns.'
McGonagall agreed, and taking a shaky hand, escorted her from the room, leaving the three men alone in their thoughts.
'You realize you may be wasting your time headmaster.' Snape drawled, casting an ominous eye to the door Rosmerta had just passed through. 'What possible knowledge could you possibly hope to gain from this woman?'
Marius grinded his teeth impatiently and raised his right hand, making Snape draw back suddenly.
'You would do well to heed Albus Dumbledore's advice once in a while you slimy excuse for a…..!'
'Marius! Cease and desist.' Albus commanded. The old wizard looked to him rather grudgingly, but lowered his hand nevertheless, eying Snape with a cold suspicion. 'My reasoning behind this is simple Serverus. We are on the back foot of this ordeal. Through and through. I have no doubt that an occupation force of muggles has seen this castle in it's entirety by now, the wards that prevent that have long since dissipated…so, why they have not attacked us yet is still a mystery. It is possible they're waiting for something, or…' Dumbledore paused momentarily as he furrowed his brow in thought, 'perhaps, someone.'
Snape glanced sideward to Marius who eyed him in return, their questioning glances quite alike.
'Are you suggesting that Vo… err, the dark lord I mean, has something to do with this muggle invasion?' Snape asked the headmaster curiously, a stunted breath lingering in his throat. Albus looked back in his analytical pose, arching his fingers together beneath his nose.
'Is it not possible Serverus?' he asked the young man in a knowing tone, silencing him. 'Are you aware Serverus of the works of Merlin?'
Snape shook his head in confusion.
'I mentioned this to Morheim earlier, and I feel it necessary to tell you as well.' Snape shot Marius a rueful look, 'A curse was made during Merlin's time that was powerful enough to destroy wards. Irovanai was it's name. Those with knowledge of it's existence suspect it to be Merlin's own work, much like myself, although nothing has been proven of course.' Snape gazed at Albus curiously, trying to see the logic behind what he was saying. Dumbledore continued, 'Witches and wizards since Merlin's time have been unable to perform this curse. Whether it be due to it's complexity or the fact that it was never published into books, no one has mastered it, probably for the best I think… However, with near unbreakable wards on Hogwarts grounds disintegrating to dust, I am open to believe that Voldemort has mastered the curse. How he has managed to do so, and for what reason is yet unknown, but to bring about such an outcome as to incite the muggle world to war with us is a factor that can simply not be ignored… Now, I have thought long and hard on this subject, and though I have not mentioned this before, I feel inclined to now.'
Dumbledore turned his reproachful gaze to Marius.
'I was not pleased you utilized Heliopaths for our defense Morheim. Heliopaths are extremely violent and bloodthirsty fire spirits. Their very existence is reason enough to spit in anger let alone have them stalking the school grounds on a regular basis. I believe your years may have tainted your wisdom Morheim.'
Marius bowed his head in some form of shame, though Snape didn't buy it, he still felt at odds with the mage.
'Regardless of this,' Albus continued, sitting back slightly in his chair, 'We are in a position that cannot be ignored. Heliopaths, as you said Morheim, are not apt to being made fools of, and they would sooner burn their false masters rather than be used to no good effect… In short, they're evil. Soulless beings that I despise in all forms whether they be physical or of ghostly nature. They thrive on suffering, much like Dementors, and whilst they remain in this castle there is the undeniable threat that a strong enough evil could persuade them to switch allegiances. Friend become foe. Not a scenario any of us would care to picture in our minds, yet even so it is a possibility…' Dumbledore lowered his head for a moment in some deep reverie, the other two men standing there mutely, unsure of what to say.
'I plan to remove them first chance I have.' Dumbledore concluded with finality, standing up from his chair with an audible groan of discomfort. 'But first, we must satisfy their need for blood. Though they don't consume it, the very sight of it intensifies them and allegiance is assured. It pains me to no end that we must do this, but I'm afraid we have no other choice, we must strike at the muggle forces occupying Hogsmeade, if only to placate a few of their number at least.'
Marius looked resolute at this, if not rather excited at the prospect. Snape though, looked apprehensive, wringing his hands together uneasily. He spoke up suddenly, a thought lodging in his mind.
'Headmaster, more and more Heliopaths spawn each day, and I have not yet seen an end to it. If we are to placate but a few of them, we may provoke the remaining spirits into violence when word returns. Should we not send them all Dumbledore?'
Albus shook his head consistently, sure quite sure of himself.
'No Serverus, I fear we cannot, not without risk to ourselves. There are too many of them.'
'How many… exactly?'
'At least six thousand…'
Elsewhere in the castle, in a room long since abandoned, Minerva McGonagall warily eyed her 'guest' as she sat quietly by a crackling fire, her face illuminated by the glowing embers. The Veritaserum had thus far had no effect on the woman whatsoever, producing no memories on her part. This infuriated the mature witch considerably, and she eyed an old hour glass timer in the background as each grain of sand fell from top to bottom. She ticked the minutes away impatiently, tapping her foot on the floor for every moment that escaped her. Why was this taking so long? She thought bitterly to herself, trying to wish time faster. A soft voice broke the silence abruptly.
'I would've thought you'd have something better to do with your time than watch me.' Madam Rosmerta said to McGonagall, a weary look apparent on her face which was still illuminated by the fire. McGonagall looked down to her with an embarrassed look on her face.
'Well err,' she spluttered uneasily, trying to avoid the young woman's gaze. 'Dumbledore said that I have to inform him when…'
'I heard what he said Minerva.' She interrupted the old wizard, taking her by surprise, 'I may have been mute but I'm not deaf.' A slight red tinge of colour came to McGonagall's cheeks, and she immediately became thankful for the apparent darkness of them room.
'Well, if you heard what he said, then you know I cannot let you leave until we get information from you. Hogsmeade was a loss too dear to afford again.'
Rosmerta smiled unexpectedly and stifled a laugh, drawing McGonagall's curious gaze.
'Yes Minerva, I understand… But you must know my memories are hazy, but over the past few minutes they've been returning, however vague they may seem.'
McGonagall's ears pricked up for a second.
'They've been coming back? What do you remember?' she asked curiously, not taking her eyes off the young lady for a moment.
'Let me take you back Minerva, though you may find what I have to say as rather distressing…'
"FLASHBACK"
'Charles?…'she breathed in surprise. The figure nodded absent mindedly, his gaze still focused on the muggle before him, who despite having a wand pointed at him, thought nothing of the danger and began walking leisurely towards him, the glinting blade almost hungering for blood. Charles eyed it suspiciously, completely aware of the danger that he too was in, no matter how remote.
Without thinking, Charles lunged at the muggle, one hand baring his wand, the other, twisting into a vicious fist which he smashed into the muggle's face, an audible groan coming from the receiver. But he refused to fall, the punch doing seemingly little damage to the muggle who in physical terms, outmatched the skinny wizard entirely. His strong hand suddenly grabbed Charles and hurled him several meters into the undergrowth, shocking the wizard at the power of the attack, but only serving to increase the young man's own resolve as he beckoned the woman to run as fast as she could.
With a few pounding steps the muggle stood over Charles once more, his intent clear as he made for him. But Charles wouldn't let himself get taken, and he retorted quickly with a sidelong kick to the face which sent the man sprawling to the forest floor…
Rising to his feet in anger, the muggle turned once more to Charles, who both now stood about ten feet apart, eyeing each other warily. And in a single act of defiance, the muggle raised a single hand and removed his mask.
The sight was something Charles wasn't expecting. The muggle showed signs of being a true, professional soldier, very intelligent. His face bore scars of many types, no doubt gained through a hundred battles, and his penetrating eyes betrayed the sense of knowing that almost reduced Charles to his feet. It had the undesirable effect of adding to the skirmish a little personality, and his confidence began to waver rapidly as the muggle looked to him with an air of imminent supremacy, scaring him. The fight had to end now, Charles thought, and he precariously raised his wand.
'IVERTAE STACHIUS!' he yelled, a blinding silver curse erupting furiously from his wand in the muggle's direction. Yet despite the speed, he dodged it in a single deft movement, before rushing towards Charles and smashing a hard fist into his stomach, catching the wizard off guard. The pain was horrible and knocked all breath from Charles. Yet his terror didn't stop. Another fist flew at him from no where and soon a flurry of blows began raining down on him from all directions, sending him across the ground as a bleeding wreck.
The woman looked on in a horrified gaze as the wizard got all manner of life beaten from him by the aggressor. Like some kind of sadistic dance, the muggle leaped and bounded amongst the undergrowth, never once letting Charles recover from his own hell, the blood soon beginning to flow from his mouth as he coughed up violently. He wasn't brought up learning how to fight this way. He'd always been taught means of dueling with a wand.
Sullen and blood letting, Charles rose to his feet. Remarkably, the muggle allowed him, choosing instead to wander about him casually… Taunting him. Charles attempted to focus his eyes that had grown suddenly blurry from the beating.
'No… NO!' he shouted through his coughs, a sharp determination spiking within him. 'I won't let you win!' the muggle looked aimlessly towards him, yet brandished his knife rather candidly despite him, that thing still hadn't been stained with blood of it's own.
'Somehow I doubt it…' the muggle replied, spinning the knife between his fingers, incensing the wizard beyond belief. Charles raised his wand with finality, a cold hatred brewing within his mind.
'DIE!' he shouted with intense vigor, the muggle already starting towards him in a run, 'AVADA KEDAVRA!'
Time slowed down almost effortlessly, Charles and the woman looked on as a terrible green light glowed from his wand, the wild snake like curse bursting forth to steal the man's life. Yet at the same time, the muggle spun about on the spot with his knife, aiming his blow in a vicious upward slash, and in a single horrifying moment, the knife sliced the curse in two as it floated mid air. Charles's mouth dropping open in sheer disbelief as the flowing slash continued upward, the biting blade swiftly tearing through the flesh of his neck, and severing his head from his body.
The woman screamed in an ear splitting pitch as Charles's body fell to the ground, his head following suit. And looking down upon it with some form of twisted pleasure, he put his hands forth and seized his trophy, lifting the head aloft as he howled his victory throughout the trees, the spirits of old shying away as the man's echoing cries of glory echoed on.
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Oooh aren't the muggles evil! Sorry I ain't posted lately, things have been on my mind as of late. But I promise I will post more often. So brace yourself for the chapter, good god things start to ugly. Happy reading.
Hurried footsteps followed the young woman through the dense undergrowth of the forbidden forest. Her own swift pace seemingly no match for the dark, soulless shadow that pursued, gaining with every misplaced step she took, striking fear into her. She'd dared not look back. At the first sign of danger she'd been fleet of foot, tearing off into the undergrowth whilst abandoning her fellow survivors, who'd all been spared the terror of Hogsmeade's destruction. Oh how horrible it had been. The sky rained fire like never before seen. The only sounds that accompanied the bone shaking explosions that rocked the town, were the equally chilling screams of terror. Women and children who were innocent, and had done nothing wrong, being caught within the crossfire of a war they were not apart of. Being dictated by an enemy they could not see. And she was the last one left alive, she was sure of it.
Craning her neck briefly, she saw to her fear the pursuer, a lithe mass of shadow that almost seemed to leap between each patch of darkness she passed, all the while a dull glint of tainted metal remained held at it's side, deadly intent squared on her. She was being stalked, and she'd never been more afraid in her lifetime. Throwing all caution to the wind, she pulled her wand from within her cumbersome robes and yelled out a spell behind her.
'REDUCTO!' she cried, a spiraling stream of energy erupting from her wand towards the pursuer's shadowy silhouette. Her aim was true, the spell struck it's target on the full, sending it flying some five meters back into the undergrowth with an audible crash. Momentarily surprised by her own good fortune, she didn't see the protruding tree root that existed menacingly in front, ensnaring her foot as she ran over it, sending her to the ground with a thud. A sharp wound held her as she clutched her stomach and writhed on the forest floor, the wind having been knocked out of her by the fall. Time felt like an unending feeling of throbbing pain for a few brief moments as she desperately tried to recover. Behind her though, in the bushes, the one that followed her had shakily gotten to their feet and began making their way precariously towards her.
Frantically she clawed for her wand… "Where is it!" she thought hysterically to herself, as she fumbled through her robes. Her masked assailant trudging woefully onwards, nearing where she laid sprawled across the ground, quickly gathering his bearings. She still couldn't find her wand. Her tenacity intensified, and she suddenly spotted it lying a few feet from her, half covered by dead leaves. Crawling madly towards it, she opened one begging hand to grasp her only hope. The one object that stood between her and certain death. But in this most terrible moment, as she was poised mere centimeters from seizing her salvation, a solid, heavy boot came down onto her arm, pinning her to the ground.
She struggled vainly, trying with all her strength to break free of her stalker's iron hold upon her. Yet it only seemed to infuriate the pursuer more, who pulled a long serrated knife from his belt. It's sinister yet beautiful form in the half light of the forest belying it's true purpose, which she felt remained with her. "I'm going to die!" she thought horribly to herself, snapping her eyes shut, not wanting to see her own demise stare her in the face. A sudden rustle from the bushes quickly caught the man's attention, and the stalker's head snapped about to see the source of the noise.
With wand outstretched and walking hazily toward them, a limping figure emerged from the shadow, his disheveled form revealing a number of deep gashes to his right leg, his robes torn from the wild unchecked growth of the trees around him. With a steely glint in his eyes he looked directly towards the shadowy man that had hunted the woman so efficiently, before uttering a few choice, yet direct words.
'Leave this woman, your fight rests with me muggle. I'll see you dead before this night ends…'
The woman on the ground looked up hazily, the pain in her arm from the man's tough boot becoming evident to her. Yet in the shadow she made out the wizard that spoke with such chivalry.
'Charles?…'
Far from the twisting masses of seemingly dead trees, wizarding folk both young and old walked about their business, not stopping to rest out of anxiety for the future. Every waking moment seemed prolonged as the masses of robed witches and wizards stalked about Hogwarts corridors, their heads lowered in some fearful expression of their true thoughts. No one knew what was going to happen to them all. With Dumbledore's mournful speech to the school populous, teachers had begun rounding up all the students who believed their fate was to protect Hogwarts. Despite the fear, an incredible number beyond comprehension had volunteered. Their triumphant yells echoing throughout the great hall as they stood to some kind of attention, as though their meager knowledge of magic could somehow aid the wizarding world.
Much of Gryffindor had taken the charge, the bravery which told all Gryffindors apart making the up the majority of the volunteers, eager to do their share. Unsurprisingly, the Slytherins showed a very distinct lack of interest, those few who did join the rabble seemed only intent on teaching the muggle aggressors a lesson worth remembering. A lesson of which, brought many frowns where ever it was heard, yet never threatened to dull their evil spirit. What was clear however, was that not everyone in the houses thought anything good enough about Hogwarts that was worth fighting about. A large contingent of muggle born witches and wizards had neglected joining the volunteer ranks. Undeniably, this was seen as sheer cowardess by many, and the fact they were muggle borns seemed to intensify rumors further that they were as had been suggested before, acting on behalf of the enemy.
Harry heard rumors this way and that about the muggle borns. Though his interest often wavered whenever the topic was mentioned. Only a few short years ago, Harry had no knowledge that wizards ever existed, despite being of wizard blood himself, not to mention the fact that some of his best friends, including Hermione, were also raised by muggles. Which begged the question as to why these children's collective knowledge wasn't being utilized more thoroughly.
McGonagall had taken up charge of organizing all those who were willing to participate in the castle's defense, lining them all up in rows in the great hall so their combined strength could be assessed and their abilities measured by the teaching staff. In more simple terms, to find whether or not they were capable of defending themselves. Marius would've been proud. And yet few past the rudimentary tests that were set to determine this. Those that failed, immediately left the great hall, feeling somewhat slighted, yet ashamed at the same time for their own lack of ability. It had become quite clear that Dumbledore was more than willing to keep all the school students in a far safer place than the battlefield, and the tests of magical prowess that he organized were reflective of this.
Gradually as the hours past by and daylight slowly gave way to the ominous night, the numbers of students who were prepared to defend at all costs had dwindled considerably. No more than forty students remained out of some three hundred that had originally shown up. These were the ones who's parents were either dead or too far off to be any assistance to them, or who's magical ability far outmatched that of the common student. Harry was one of them. Hermione, another. And they were organized into ranks according to their abilities, so they could be used in the most effective manner. It was all too much for the parents of those who were chosen when the organization had finished, the chosen, beginning a march though the castle as the first real wizard army, if forty students could be considered that. The same resounding fact becoming apparent to a few of the students as well, who were unaccustomed to behaving like soldiers and were really only just beginning to leave childhood now. The sad faces on their parents faces making some second guess, and ask themselves why they were doing this, risking their lives in war when other far more experienced witches and wizards were making the exact same commitment… Why?
Dumbledore had begun showing signs of his resentment towards Hogwarts' state of affairs. Large worry lines had started to appear on his face, the usual twinkle in his eyes dimming to nothing more than a faint glimmer. His entire attitude to students also altering dramatically. Sure he still supported them all to the best of his abilities, but despite Marius's confidence in their combined magical strength, Albus seemed to feel that the castle was in for perhaps a far greater battle than had at first seemed apparent. This was no more emphasized when his chosen batch of students had been moved into their respective ranks to support the legions of Heliopath troops that had been gathering in large numbers on the school grounds. There was no happiness on his face whatsoever, the very notion of sending children to fight a war seemed an absolute horror to think of. One who knew him best could say he was wracked with guilt that in spite of his extensive knowledge and wisdom, he was thus far unable to find a reputable solution which did not involve sending children into battle. Oh what shame.
To build up for his lack of self confidence, Albus spent his time secluded in his office, pouring over pile after pile of ancient magical books so as to find a full proof way of defending the castle from attack. It seemed fruitless however, his search so far yielding nothing of value. But his determination seemed resolute. He did not stop turning the pages of script, his full concentration so focused on lines of text and ancient runes, that he could not bring himself to answer those who wished to speak to him… not even Marius. Yet in all frustration that had pierced his calm and collected exterior, Albus could not hide his joy at once again reading books he had neglected for so long. Returning to his roots, in as most aptly a way to put it.
Time moved differently in Dumbledore's office. There was rumor passing between the teachers that he'd made use of a time turner to increase his working abilities, but the old man never admitted to such a thing, but didn't deny it either, despite moving through entire piles of books in only a few hours. Magic was definitely being used, it was certain. Of course it was not the teacher's place to ask what he was doing in their by himself, so they all kept their opinions to themselves. It wouldn't have mattered in any case if they were furious about his seclusion, the headmaster had placed some sort of seal on his office that prevented anyone entering without his permission, an echo of Dolores Umbridge's futile attempts of entry the year before coming back full strong. One could not help but smile at Albus's own need for privacy that no one could go near him… or could they?
Dumbledore remained working constantly behind his desk, practicing a myriad of spells and incantations, none seeming to fit his requirements, when the apparent silence was suddenly broken as the room slid in and out of focus for a brief moment, before a single Heliopath materialized in front of him, it's arms crossed over it's chest in protection of something Dumbledore could not see. The old man raised a single suspicious eyebrow.
'And may I ask why it is you've decided to enter my office so unannounced?' Dumbledore spoke in his calm, but now rather strained voice, as he eyed the fire spirit warily.
For a moment the Heliopath did nothing but stand motionless, fixing the old wizard with a brief, fiery glance that confirmed it had news most important.
'You must forgive my lateness headmaster,' the Heliopath began in a low, drawling voice, steady columns of smoke rising through it's cloak, 'but I found it increasingly difficult to gain access to your office…' and at once it let it's arms lull to it's sides, revealing to Albus's surprise a young woman unconscious behind the spirit's cloak. Without the Heliopath to support her, the lady's body fell to the floor with a resounding thud, drawing both their attention.
Dumbledore moved about from his desk and kneeled down to her, a questioning look appearing on his face.
'And of what whereabouts did you find this woman?' the headmaster asked, a sudden look of knowing spreading across his face.
'One of my kind discovered her lying at the edge of the forbidden forest, with innumerable wounds…' it answered promptly, all the while Dumbledore searching her robes for her wand, 'Though her physical wounds were able to be healed at once, her conscious mind has been moving to and from reality for well over three hours…' Dumbledore continued to examine her carefully letting the spirit drone on, not really taking in anything it said, before he stood up and looked to the Heliopath directly.
'You can be assured that I will tend to this matter personally, I thank you for your speed.' But just as Albus turned, the Heliopath made for him again, determined to hold his attention.
'Forgive me once more headmaster,' the spirit interrupted the old mage, turning him about, 'but I am concerned with matters at this time. My subordinates are confused and agitated…'
Dumbledore listened obediently.
'Many of us are well aware of the burning of Hogsmeade. Our non corporeal spies there report the entire town being overrun by muggles within an hour of it's destruction and have entrenched themselves at the location… Now by all rights, they could have attacked this castle hours ago, and yet they have not. Am I not correct in assuming the wards protecting this castle have dissipated at last?'
Dumbledore nodded solemnly.
'Then why is it they have not yet attacked us?! Tell me that headmaster, the Heliopath clans stand irritated by this lack of conflict, they hunger you see, it has been many centuries since the last wizard muggle war. We have not tasted such blood for too long now.'
Dumbledore stared emotionlessly at the agitated fire spirit, his own eyes holding enough strength to keep the malevolent being at bay.
'For that Aandrak I am afraid I have no answer,' he suddenly shot the young lady a quizzical look, her disheveled form still lying unconscious on his floor, 'However, perhaps she may yield some answers yet. I will query her about it Aandrak, she may yet be the last of Hogsmeade's residents, so rest easy. I will report to you what I can when answers reveal themselves.'
The Heliopath seemed highly disgruntled by this and it gave Albus a long, shallow hiss, the fires in it's eyes burning more intensely than before, but it held it's tongue, and merely bowed respectfully before dematerializing out of the room, leaving Dumbledore alone to tend to the lady, a weary frown stretched across his face. Dumbledore took out his wand and muttered a counter spell, his office glowed suddenly and dimming once more. And within a few minutes, Marius appeared before him, McGonagall and Snape following through the entrance not too long after, all staring questionably at the lady who was sprawled over the floor.
'Who is this? What is she doing here?' McGonagall asked impatiently, but still glad to finally be admitted access to Dumbledore's office after so long. The headmaster kneeled down to the lady once more and using his wand, pushed several locks of long and curly, blond hair from her face. Leaving McGonagall and Snape to gasp. Dumbledore nodded acceptingly, looking to the young lady's face with a hint of dismay.
'Madam Rosmerta…' Albus said slowly, before turning to Snape. 'I may need some Veritaserum from your stocks, if you would be so kind.' Snape nodded after looking to the unconscious woman and quickly left the room. Dumbledore looked to McGonagall and Marius, who were both standing there looking rather slack jawed.
'She was brought in a mere moment ago by a Heliopath.' Albus said to answer their questioning looks, 'Apparently she was found at the edge of the forbidden forest… now, evidently she is one of the survivors of Hogsmeade. Only some intuitive interrogation will tell for sure. And it may be of great value to us to learn from her. Aandrak tells me afterall the majority of the Heliopath army is becoming restless. They demand news of when the muggles will attack. Thus far we've heard nothing credible, and the apparent lack of survivors from Hogsmeade has been rather disconcerting to me.'
Marius and McGonagall exchanged several concerned glares between each other as the headmaster arose from the floor, dusting himself off. Marius seemed rather unusually uptight and looked to Albus with an air of unease.
'Something on your mind Morheim?' Dumbledore asked the old man curiously. Marius looked back quite embarrassed.
'The thought has occurred to me,' Marius began, his voice quavering slightly, 'That should the muggles not attack soon, the Heliopaths may revolt against us… Now I don't presume to know exactly how the mind of a fire spirit works, but based on my experiences, they will not stand with us if they feel they've been made fools of, regardless of who summoned them. My main concern regarding this is that we may lose them before the battle begins, and I believe I am correct in saying they're the majority of our strength at the current time. The students dare I say can barely fend for themselves let alone have the stomach to offense against well trained muggle soldiers, and it is well known the magic imbued deep within a dragon's hide make them rather… temperamental. So what do we do Dumbledore if the Heliopaths do break free of us? Is there any way left after that to win the war?'
Dumbledore looked to him rather ashen faced, but with that all too common knowing expression.
'That possibility has occurred to me before Marius. And should it happen, we will do nothing, the war will be lost… we will be lost. If not by the weapons of our muggle counterparts or by the fire the Heliopaths worship, or even by the killing curse of our death-eater enemies, this war will be over and we shall be nothing more than a ripple in time when our voice becomes little more than a faint, distant, memory. It is therefore imperative that we learn as much as possible from young Madam Rosmerta here, for an enemy can be deadly, but an ally turned foe, even worse…'
Snape re-entered the room carrying a small, clear vial that he handed to Dumbledore, who once again kneeled down to the young lady, before inserting three well placed drops into her mouth.
'It is imperative therefore,' Dumbledore continued, letting the clear liquid sink in, 'That we extract every possible detail from her that we can. Hogsmeade was a terrible loss, and if we don't use Veritaserum, she may be afraid and not be so willing to tell us of what has happened.'
He deftly pointed his wand to the her unconscious form and muttered a spell.
'Enervate…'
The lady's eyes slowly flickered open gradually, and she took in those around her with a sense of awe… the faces about her seemed familiar, she knew that much, but where was she? The thought burrowed about in her head for a moment. The last place she remembered being was amongst a group of trees in total darkness… where was this place?
A calm voice suddenly wafted over her as she sat upright, rubbing her forehead.
'Can you hear me?
Snapping her head about, she stared open mouthed at the old wizard before her, not quite capable of saying anything. But even if she could, her mind seemed to be reeling, and precisely what she could say eluded her. She just stared mutely, not to Dumbledore's surprise.
'Y… Yes.' She choked out, forcing the words from her mouth. Albus nodded sympathetically.
'Madam Rosmerta, why were you found on the border of the forbidden forest?' Dumbledore asked, a calm emptiness enveloping the room at that moment. The young lady faced the floor, straining her mind. Why was she found there? Perhaps she'd once known, the answer escaped her, but she could feel her mind desperately trying to recall the subject from memory, a clear sign the Veritaserum was beginning to do it's job. But as hard as she tried, nothing was recalled. So she sat silent on the floor, clearly frustrated that her mind wouldn't work properly.
Dumbledore seemed rather disappointed by this but shook his head acceptingly.
'Perhaps we should give you some time. Yes… time would help a great deal.' He spoke empathetically, drawing a curious stare from the lady. 'Minerva, see that Madam Rosmerta is taken care of, I wish to be informed the very moment her memory returns.'
McGonagall agreed, and taking a shaky hand, escorted her from the room, leaving the three men alone in their thoughts.
'You realize you may be wasting your time headmaster.' Snape drawled, casting an ominous eye to the door Rosmerta had just passed through. 'What possible knowledge could you possibly hope to gain from this woman?'
Marius grinded his teeth impatiently and raised his right hand, making Snape draw back suddenly.
'You would do well to heed Albus Dumbledore's advice once in a while you slimy excuse for a…..!'
'Marius! Cease and desist.' Albus commanded. The old wizard looked to him rather grudgingly, but lowered his hand nevertheless, eying Snape with a cold suspicion. 'My reasoning behind this is simple Serverus. We are on the back foot of this ordeal. Through and through. I have no doubt that an occupation force of muggles has seen this castle in it's entirety by now, the wards that prevent that have long since dissipated…so, why they have not attacked us yet is still a mystery. It is possible they're waiting for something, or…' Dumbledore paused momentarily as he furrowed his brow in thought, 'perhaps, someone.'
Snape glanced sideward to Marius who eyed him in return, their questioning glances quite alike.
'Are you suggesting that Vo… err, the dark lord I mean, has something to do with this muggle invasion?' Snape asked the headmaster curiously, a stunted breath lingering in his throat. Albus looked back in his analytical pose, arching his fingers together beneath his nose.
'Is it not possible Serverus?' he asked the young man in a knowing tone, silencing him. 'Are you aware Serverus of the works of Merlin?'
Snape shook his head in confusion.
'I mentioned this to Morheim earlier, and I feel it necessary to tell you as well.' Snape shot Marius a rueful look, 'A curse was made during Merlin's time that was powerful enough to destroy wards. Irovanai was it's name. Those with knowledge of it's existence suspect it to be Merlin's own work, much like myself, although nothing has been proven of course.' Snape gazed at Albus curiously, trying to see the logic behind what he was saying. Dumbledore continued, 'Witches and wizards since Merlin's time have been unable to perform this curse. Whether it be due to it's complexity or the fact that it was never published into books, no one has mastered it, probably for the best I think… However, with near unbreakable wards on Hogwarts grounds disintegrating to dust, I am open to believe that Voldemort has mastered the curse. How he has managed to do so, and for what reason is yet unknown, but to bring about such an outcome as to incite the muggle world to war with us is a factor that can simply not be ignored… Now, I have thought long and hard on this subject, and though I have not mentioned this before, I feel inclined to now.'
Dumbledore turned his reproachful gaze to Marius.
'I was not pleased you utilized Heliopaths for our defense Morheim. Heliopaths are extremely violent and bloodthirsty fire spirits. Their very existence is reason enough to spit in anger let alone have them stalking the school grounds on a regular basis. I believe your years may have tainted your wisdom Morheim.'
Marius bowed his head in some form of shame, though Snape didn't buy it, he still felt at odds with the mage.
'Regardless of this,' Albus continued, sitting back slightly in his chair, 'We are in a position that cannot be ignored. Heliopaths, as you said Morheim, are not apt to being made fools of, and they would sooner burn their false masters rather than be used to no good effect… In short, they're evil. Soulless beings that I despise in all forms whether they be physical or of ghostly nature. They thrive on suffering, much like Dementors, and whilst they remain in this castle there is the undeniable threat that a strong enough evil could persuade them to switch allegiances. Friend become foe. Not a scenario any of us would care to picture in our minds, yet even so it is a possibility…' Dumbledore lowered his head for a moment in some deep reverie, the other two men standing there mutely, unsure of what to say.
'I plan to remove them first chance I have.' Dumbledore concluded with finality, standing up from his chair with an audible groan of discomfort. 'But first, we must satisfy their need for blood. Though they don't consume it, the very sight of it intensifies them and allegiance is assured. It pains me to no end that we must do this, but I'm afraid we have no other choice, we must strike at the muggle forces occupying Hogsmeade, if only to placate a few of their number at least.'
Marius looked resolute at this, if not rather excited at the prospect. Snape though, looked apprehensive, wringing his hands together uneasily. He spoke up suddenly, a thought lodging in his mind.
'Headmaster, more and more Heliopaths spawn each day, and I have not yet seen an end to it. If we are to placate but a few of them, we may provoke the remaining spirits into violence when word returns. Should we not send them all Dumbledore?'
Albus shook his head consistently, sure quite sure of himself.
'No Serverus, I fear we cannot, not without risk to ourselves. There are too many of them.'
'How many… exactly?'
'At least six thousand…'
Elsewhere in the castle, in a room long since abandoned, Minerva McGonagall warily eyed her 'guest' as she sat quietly by a crackling fire, her face illuminated by the glowing embers. The Veritaserum had thus far had no effect on the woman whatsoever, producing no memories on her part. This infuriated the mature witch considerably, and she eyed an old hour glass timer in the background as each grain of sand fell from top to bottom. She ticked the minutes away impatiently, tapping her foot on the floor for every moment that escaped her. Why was this taking so long? She thought bitterly to herself, trying to wish time faster. A soft voice broke the silence abruptly.
'I would've thought you'd have something better to do with your time than watch me.' Madam Rosmerta said to McGonagall, a weary look apparent on her face which was still illuminated by the fire. McGonagall looked down to her with an embarrassed look on her face.
'Well err,' she spluttered uneasily, trying to avoid the young woman's gaze. 'Dumbledore said that I have to inform him when…'
'I heard what he said Minerva.' She interrupted the old wizard, taking her by surprise, 'I may have been mute but I'm not deaf.' A slight red tinge of colour came to McGonagall's cheeks, and she immediately became thankful for the apparent darkness of them room.
'Well, if you heard what he said, then you know I cannot let you leave until we get information from you. Hogsmeade was a loss too dear to afford again.'
Rosmerta smiled unexpectedly and stifled a laugh, drawing McGonagall's curious gaze.
'Yes Minerva, I understand… But you must know my memories are hazy, but over the past few minutes they've been returning, however vague they may seem.'
McGonagall's ears pricked up for a second.
'They've been coming back? What do you remember?' she asked curiously, not taking her eyes off the young lady for a moment.
'Let me take you back Minerva, though you may find what I have to say as rather distressing…'
"FLASHBACK"
'Charles?…'she breathed in surprise. The figure nodded absent mindedly, his gaze still focused on the muggle before him, who despite having a wand pointed at him, thought nothing of the danger and began walking leisurely towards him, the glinting blade almost hungering for blood. Charles eyed it suspiciously, completely aware of the danger that he too was in, no matter how remote.
Without thinking, Charles lunged at the muggle, one hand baring his wand, the other, twisting into a vicious fist which he smashed into the muggle's face, an audible groan coming from the receiver. But he refused to fall, the punch doing seemingly little damage to the muggle who in physical terms, outmatched the skinny wizard entirely. His strong hand suddenly grabbed Charles and hurled him several meters into the undergrowth, shocking the wizard at the power of the attack, but only serving to increase the young man's own resolve as he beckoned the woman to run as fast as she could.
With a few pounding steps the muggle stood over Charles once more, his intent clear as he made for him. But Charles wouldn't let himself get taken, and he retorted quickly with a sidelong kick to the face which sent the man sprawling to the forest floor…
Rising to his feet in anger, the muggle turned once more to Charles, who both now stood about ten feet apart, eyeing each other warily. And in a single act of defiance, the muggle raised a single hand and removed his mask.
The sight was something Charles wasn't expecting. The muggle showed signs of being a true, professional soldier, very intelligent. His face bore scars of many types, no doubt gained through a hundred battles, and his penetrating eyes betrayed the sense of knowing that almost reduced Charles to his feet. It had the undesirable effect of adding to the skirmish a little personality, and his confidence began to waver rapidly as the muggle looked to him with an air of imminent supremacy, scaring him. The fight had to end now, Charles thought, and he precariously raised his wand.
'IVERTAE STACHIUS!' he yelled, a blinding silver curse erupting furiously from his wand in the muggle's direction. Yet despite the speed, he dodged it in a single deft movement, before rushing towards Charles and smashing a hard fist into his stomach, catching the wizard off guard. The pain was horrible and knocked all breath from Charles. Yet his terror didn't stop. Another fist flew at him from no where and soon a flurry of blows began raining down on him from all directions, sending him across the ground as a bleeding wreck.
The woman looked on in a horrified gaze as the wizard got all manner of life beaten from him by the aggressor. Like some kind of sadistic dance, the muggle leaped and bounded amongst the undergrowth, never once letting Charles recover from his own hell, the blood soon beginning to flow from his mouth as he coughed up violently. He wasn't brought up learning how to fight this way. He'd always been taught means of dueling with a wand.
Sullen and blood letting, Charles rose to his feet. Remarkably, the muggle allowed him, choosing instead to wander about him casually… Taunting him. Charles attempted to focus his eyes that had grown suddenly blurry from the beating.
'No… NO!' he shouted through his coughs, a sharp determination spiking within him. 'I won't let you win!' the muggle looked aimlessly towards him, yet brandished his knife rather candidly despite him, that thing still hadn't been stained with blood of it's own.
'Somehow I doubt it…' the muggle replied, spinning the knife between his fingers, incensing the wizard beyond belief. Charles raised his wand with finality, a cold hatred brewing within his mind.
'DIE!' he shouted with intense vigor, the muggle already starting towards him in a run, 'AVADA KEDAVRA!'
Time slowed down almost effortlessly, Charles and the woman looked on as a terrible green light glowed from his wand, the wild snake like curse bursting forth to steal the man's life. Yet at the same time, the muggle spun about on the spot with his knife, aiming his blow in a vicious upward slash, and in a single horrifying moment, the knife sliced the curse in two as it floated mid air. Charles's mouth dropping open in sheer disbelief as the flowing slash continued upward, the biting blade swiftly tearing through the flesh of his neck, and severing his head from his body.
The woman screamed in an ear splitting pitch as Charles's body fell to the ground, his head following suit. And looking down upon it with some form of twisted pleasure, he put his hands forth and seized his trophy, lifting the head aloft as he howled his victory throughout the trees, the spirits of old shying away as the man's echoing cries of glory echoed on.
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Oooh aren't the muggles evil! Sorry I ain't posted lately, things have been on my mind as of late. But I promise I will post more often. So brace yourself for the chapter, good god things start to ugly. Happy reading.