Chapter 16 – Interloper
Within hours of the shield being raised, those protected within began to find some sense of normality in themselves, if not sanity at the same time. Just that knowing at Hogwarts you were safe, was all that the survivors had been looking for, given the harsh measures these people had to resort to whilst under attack. Longing for organization, everyone who was alive was wrangled up together and given responsibilities to keep their minds off the present. For example, a sixth year student given charge of a first year's life and so on and so forth. How effective these measures would be wasn't known to anyone, though it did become apparent that it didn't have the desired affect of easing people's minds. The glowing mass of rippling energy above only served to remind them of the dire situation they were in. But for now at least, people's troubles were pushed as far back into their own minds as they would willingly allow. So much had happened, and everyone, regardless of their age or position, had grown out of all this.
Harry sat by a kindling fire beneath the shade of a large piece of granite. Ron and Hermione were accompanying him nearby, eyeing him grimly as he fiddled with a long cut on his arm, occasionally poking it with his wand. Ron winced every time Harry produced a squishy kind of sound, and excused himself thereafter. Most likely to throw up in a secluded corner if he were unlucky. Ron had never been very strong stomached about such things. Hermione on the other hand was much more developed in that manner, and watched the young boy with a distinct interest, despite going pale when he removed a very formidable looking shard of glass from beneath his skin, blood still dripping off it as he placed it on the ground. A small collection having been built up over several hours. Harry gave a long sigh.
'That's the last of it…' he spoke with a definite look of relief in his eyes, shooting a glance towards the small pile of glass on the ground next to him, 'I wasn't sure I'd get all that out, it's been giving me horrible pain for ages.'
Hermione glanced at the open wound, swallowing hard for a moment.
'I don't know how you stood the pain Harry, by the looks of it you must've had a whole window pane beneath your skin.' Harry glanced to her thoughtfully, and stared once more to the glass on the ground.
'Well… it's out now, though if I could've turned back time I'd have loved to be out of that corridor when that blast went off. It would've saved me a hell of a cleanup job.' He looked to Hermione curiously, a slight grin on his face. The young girl threw up her hands.
'Oh Harry, you know I don't have the…' she lowered her voice to a bare whisper, '… the time turner. I had to give it back ages ago, they wouldn't let me keep it. Not after Sirius escaped.'
Harry frowned a little, upset that she'd mentioned his godfather, but didn't give it much thought thereafter. "Wounds heal in time." He thought to himself musingly, spinning his wand around in his fingers, "And just as well too."
'You know Harry,' Hermione began with a touch of concern in her voice, 'You really should get that seen to.' She gestured to Harry's open wound, a slight look of distaste appearing on her face, 'Madam Pomfrey would do you a world of good and you know it.'
Harry cast his gaze over the field to where the school nurse was attending a long line of sick and injured people, some sporting far more grisly wounds than he. Harry grumbled incoherently.
'I'll have lost all my blood by the time she reaches me. Besides, it will heal up just as quick on it's own, if not more so.'
Hermione rose an unconvinced eyebrow as the boy shrugged his shoulders dismissively.
'Well, I suppose it is up to you afterall, but don't come crying to me if you start getting infected and all!' Harry smiled mischievously.
'I wouldn't anyway, I'd go to Madam Pomfrey!' Hermione let pass a small "tisk", before she got up in disgust and stormed off. Harry watched her leave with a slight frown on his face. "I'll never understand women."
Ron came back a few minutes later, holding in his hands a large wooden bucket. He didn't show Harry the contents, but judging by the odd twitching of his face, Harry could only guess he'd been throwing up in it, and felt more than happy not to see inside. Ron explained afterwards that Hagrid had given it to him permanently, as he'd found more use with it than Hagrid ever could, something that Harry could only stifle a laugh at thinking of. But inside it made him feel hollow. He hadn't gone to see Hagrid at all during the year, and the year was almost half gone. Even with Marius forbidding students access to the grounds, as well as current affairs being on his mind, how was it that he'd forgotten the one person he'd longed to see all through his summer holidays? Unconsciously he made a mental note to see him first chance he could.
Ron looked down at his arm, and Harry half expected him to throw up again, when instead, his eyes almost bulged out of his head in shock.
'Hey, what happened to your… you had a… err?'
Harry looked down himself and almost passed out to see that not only had his wound healed, but it had disappeared completely.
'What in the world?' he spoke softly to himself, rubbing the spot the cut had been. Only a few short minutes had passed and nothing remained of the wound that had pained him for so long, save for a small red mark. 'How did that…?'
Ron gave a choked gasp and looked to Harry with large questioning eyes.
'Mate you HAVE to get that checked, something about that smells wrong to me. I dunno what exactly but there's definitely something wrong going down there.' He held Harry's arm in a tight grip and looked at it from different angles, as though to make sure he knew what he was seeing. Harry pulled back self-protectively.
'Oh come on Ron,' he said in an exasperated tone, despite his friend only wanting to help, 'I'm not going to worry about something small like this, and even if I would, Dumbledore isn't about at the moment to give advice if you hadn't noticed… besides, you're starting to sound like Hermione, the way you're ranting on.'
Ron frowned somewhat, looking slightly hurt and stood up.
'I was just worried Harry!' he spoke defensively, 'You didn't have to bite my head off.' And in an instant, he'd turned on his heel and left, muttering angrily to himself. Harry felt rather awful afterwards and didn't feel up to talking to anyone else thereon. Just incase he unwittingly bit their heads off as well. Such luck he'd had, his tongue got him into more trouble than it was worth, he should think hard before he spoke again. He looked up into the sky, his neck craning to take in the giant bubble like shield as it stood sentinel over the school. It wasn't the kind of thing you could keep a steady eye on, the rippling energies of the shield often made him feel queasy in the stomach. Briefly he thought he may have to share Ron's bucket later on. His eyes sidled away. Dusk was coming quick to his eyes, and combined with the blue magic above, the magentas and oranges of the sky looked more like an odd assortment of purples and maroons, splashed with a tinge of yellow as the shield flickered slightly now and again. Night would be not long coming, and with two friends not speaking to him, the constant threat of attack, and his arm which despite all odds seemed perfectly fine, he couldn't see himself drifting into slumber easily.
But as dusk gave way to night soon after, Harry uncomfortably lied down on the cold rocky ground next to the waning fire… and slept, to dreams of his old four poster bed, and a strange magic that seemed to want to break free of him at last…
Uneasy sleep came to the denizens of Hogwarts. Their home destroyed and whatever dreams they had for themselves not likely to come to pass, there was nothing left for the masses of survivors to do except bed down and pray. Despite the shield, many still felt vulnerable, and the fear was always there that any of them could die tomorrow, shield or no shield, wands… or no wands. Little did any realize as they tossed and turned in their uneasy sleep, beyond the tree line of the forbidden forest… they were being watched.
Shrouded in the dark of night, a lone man sat unseen beneath the branches of an imposing redwood, his eyes trained to the lack of light, he stared without blinking at the masses of people who laid down beneath rock shelters both big and small. Barely breathing, he looked through a pair of binoculars about the ruins. He saw every now and then a teacher walking about. Keeping guard? He didn't know. Casually he fumbled about and withdrew a small walkie-talkie from his utility belt, and being careful not to make a sound, he switched a small dial to turn it on.
A soft crackling sound came over the earpiece for a moment, and he waited for it to subside as he flicked the dial back and forth, searching for the right frequency. Putting it to his mouth, he held down a button and spoke in as quiet a voice as possible.
'This is Alpha, Charlie, 26225… I've arrived at the designated coordinates and am awaiting orders…' he released the button, the crackling beginning again until a male voice responded from the other end.
'Acknowledged Marine 26225, have you located tangos (targets) ?' the man looked over the ruins once more, only the odd flicker of campfires lighting the darkness here and there. He pressed down the button once more.
'Affirmative command, tangos are in sight. Estimated enemy strength at three hundred, perhaps more… Please advise…'
'Acknowledged Marine, enemy strength has been calculated. You will rendezvous with support squad Charlie at pre-designated co-ordinates once assault squad Epsilon has reached your location.'
A sudden chord struck with the man. Squinting, he put the binoculars to his eyes and watched in silence. Through the green of his night vision he could discern two stirring figures… Soldiers? He turned the zoom dial upwards, trying to gain a better look… Children! He picked up the radio again and pressed down the talk button.
'Command!' he whispered hoarsely into the mouthpiece, not taking his eyes off the figures ahead, 'Tangos are civilians, repeat, tangos are civilians, task force Epsilon cannot advance as scheduled sir, please advise!'
A few tense moments drew by as the walkie-talkie remained silent, the man's heart starting to beat wildly. "Respond damn you. RESPOND!" he thought harshly. The radio crackled again…
'Marine 26225, task force Epsilon will advance as scheduled. Civilians will not hinder this operation. Over and out.' And as quick as it began, the radio clicked and fell silent once more, the frequency light dulling to a pale red as the signal was lost. The man sat bewildered for a moment, his eyes bulging from his head in horror. "Impossible, they don't mean to attack children do they?!" It just seemed wrong according to him.
Suddenly a terrible pain gripped him, it felt like splitting his head apart. Struggling not to make his position known, he ground his teeth together as tightly as he could, so as to muffle whatever sound of pain may come from him. But it was all he could do to bury his face into his hands and wish the pain to stop. An evil voice, echoed within his mind…
'You will obey slave, serve and obey. You will not question the purpose for which you have been ordained nor will you deny your master. Serve and obey the lord of the dead, serve and obey, serve and obey…' the words bore on, driving into his scalp until the pain suddenly left him, and he collapsed onto his back.
As his eyes slowly opened a moment later, he stared around, not truly aware of himself or anything else. He just stared. Eyes glazed over and unblinking, void of emotion, he sat as still as the trees that surrounded him. Unmoving… But even as he sat, he continued to mouth words softly into the air. Barely able to have been heard, even by the best of ears.
'I will… I must… To death will I obey…' and his whispers bore on into the dark… into the night.
Harry walked curiously about in a field of rolling green, interrupted now and again with splashes of vibrant colour from tightly knit groups of budding roses and pansies. Birds chirped and insects buzzed about the air, and with the ever present sense of ease that only a cool wind could bring, Harry felt an odd sort of contentment inside, almost as if he were reacquainting himself with nature as he last remembered it. He could not believe the amount it relaxed him so. And he decided to explore…
The quaintness of it all was touching. For every green grassed hill that Harry ran over, there was another valley or wood within it that shone with life a plenty, and it was all he could do to force himself against just flopping down into the knee high grass and rolling away his troubles. It was a paradise in his mind. An untouched wilderness that had survived all the odds in it's pristine… a thought grabbed him. "Against the odds? What odds?" He looked around the green hills and sun blessed flowers, on the trees that shone with an inescapable radiance. No muggles to be found here… "Muggles?! What are muggles? Why can't I remember? What exactly is this place? What… WHAT?!"
As if by instinct he reached into his robes… Nothing! "Where's my wand?!… Wait, what is a wand? Why am I… what… err?" a small stroke of panic began to echo in his mind. This place, he thought, was too pure. Something wasn't right for such perfection. And what were these thoughts he was having? A slow trickle of memory passed through him, as though he willed it to happen. Hogwarts… magic… muggles… Nothing made any sense to him. Just patterns, images and feelings. All seeping into him until he struck something bad. A sudden pain shot through his scalp and forced him to his knees, the hurting of it all too much to bare. A cold, cruel voice echoed in his mind.
'You are a difficult man to track down… Harry Potter!' another jolt of pain surged through him like lightning. Yet at the same time, more of his memory seemed to come to him. "Harry Potter?… My name?" But the thought receded as quick as it had come, his head feeling as though it were about to split at the seams. Meanwhile, his shadow lengthened, and from it, grew a tall cloaked figure of black. Despite not bothering to lift it's hood, Harry had the distinct impression the figure was staring straight at him, perhaps even through him.
'It's quite convenient you're vulnerable in your dreams…' it spoke suddenly, and deftly, he (Harry was sure it was male from his voice) waved a hand and Harry found himself launched into the air, higher and higher, only to be brought back down to earth as hard as a hammer. The ground felt hard, the long grass beneath him not breaking his fall, but rather, his ribs. Harry coughed violently. The pain was even more intense than he'd imagined, a small trickle of blood oozed from his mouth, the crunching of broken teeth breaking the air. The dark man stood rooted to the spot, seeming to watch the young boy toil away in agony. Harry had caught a small glimpse of him only… Moments later the figure raised his hand again, and Harry pulled himself into a tight ball, not wanting to go through the same pain again.
'NO!' the boy screamed, 'PLEASE, NO MORE!' and slowly the man's hand lowered, in a satisfied sort of way.
'Very well,' he spoke in an amused sort of tongue, still eyeing the hurt boy delightedly, 'So long as you respect whom is in charge here, you shall receive no more. Is this understood Potter?!' he took the boy's muffled groans of pain as a yes. Pacing slowly about him, the dark man watched silently, as though in a reverie all of his own. A thoughtful walk, every now and then shooting him a cold glance. Harry was sure of that… he could feel his eyes watching him.
'Now that we have the… pleasantries dispensed with, it is time we talked of the reason for which I am here in your slumber…'
Harry's eyes shot open despite the pains tugging ruthlessly at his stomach and face.
'Slumber?' Harry asked, his voice closer to a choke than smooth, 'I'm dreaming?!'
The man's sharp eyes dug into Harry the moment he spoke, and for a brief time what felt like some invisible club smashed him over the back of the head, almost knocking him out. The figure still stood staring, deathly calm, his breath not seeming to rise from it's rasping quality.
'Speak when I ask it of you child, what may not hurt you in the physical world can do much more damage to you here.' Harry sat curled up on the ground, clutching his bruised head with both hands. The man continued, just as cruel and malice ridden as before. 'As for your query, yes this is a dream, you needn't know anything more than that.' He didn't raise his hand again, and Harry forced himself to sit upright, glaring at the cold figure in his dream, despite the blood that was leaking from him so slowly.
'There is much that needs to be discussed between you and I Harry,' the dark man began, still searching him with those hidden eyes, 'I admit I have been somewhat preoccupied with events as of late to speak to you as such. But, not meaning to delve away from the point… you Harry are unique, did you know?'
Harry sat for a moment contemplating, not sure whether speaking would earn yet another thrashing, so he settled for a small, mild mannered nod. The figure drawled a laugh.
'I'm sure you already do, but not as you may think… Ages in your world come and go, each one giving way to the new with their own myths, legends and tales. Already you have had a taste of this, have you not. You are afterall the boy who lived, the boy who despite not having any notable magical talent destroyed one of the great Dark Wizards of your time; Lord Voldemort.'
Harry's memories continued to return, but he stared at him as though not quite taking in what he was saying. "What the hell are you on about, what's Voldemort to you anyway?" the man went on…
'Time continues to flow and demands a new beginning, as it always has in the past. The beginning of a new age. A small, yet often pivotal being or moment held within the threads of reality, that shapes a beginning. You will find if you have studied such as I have, that time is like a multi layered chessboard, with each layer being progressively different than the last. Time is not something that likes being fixed. It prefers to change, to revitalize itself at every given opportunity. Voldemort, despite surviving your initial encounter, was the end of an age some two hundred generations long. Ages also end with a pivotal moment in time as well, as though to rival the new which marks the beginning of another. Not only was it you who defeated him the first time, but you have also encountered him on several other occasions, and escaped with your life… You are indeed unique! Can you see therefore, to what I am referring?'
Harry stared back looking slack jawed, each word being absorbed into him like a sponge. Truly he didn't have the slightest inkling as to what the man meant, whoever he was. But still keeping his composure, he nodded reluctantly. And in that moment what felt like a hot iron being pressed upon him, seared his skin like flame. Every inch of his body feeling as though it had been scalded in a bucket of boiling water, choking the last scream Harry ever thought he could bare from his panting lungs.
'LIAR!' the dark figure shouted in anger, an aura of strong magic starting to burn around him, the sky above seeming to mimic his anger as well, with dark storm clouds broiling overhead, blotting out the sun.
'Are you not stupid?! Each age ends with a being of immense power. Is it not so plain that an imbecile could understand it? How can a boy with no magical talent whatsoever defeat such a powerful mage? A wizard that quelled fear into even the mightiest of witches and wizards alike?!'
Realization dawned on Harry for the first time, his mind starting to work even through the blinding pain he felt.
'I will tell you how, Harry Potter. You have not realized it yet, but you are one in a generation. A single being who has so much influence over the tides of magic that he can manipulate it without so much as thinking. Without even speaking… I mean wandless magic Harry. Few can comprehend it, and fewer still are able to practice it successfully. But you are that minority. That one person selected from thousands who can listen to the harmonic song that magic whispers in your ears, and change it at will.'
NO! It wasn't true. It couldn't be. He'd have known by now if he was anything out of the ordinary. Not this pivotal point of time that this… this… freak, was talking about. He was just Harry. Just plain old Harry!
Painfully he pulled himself to his feet, staring at the cloaked one with as much strength as he could muster.
'Impossible!' he spoke through harshly gritted teeth. 'I AM NOT UNIQUE!' and another sharp pain struck him again, behind his legs this time, forcing him to his knees. The figure staring down to him from beneath his hood. That arrogant, loathing stare that could pierce a man's skull if need be, and it was forcing every bit of happiness that Harry ever knew out of his mind, giving him some remembrance of being attacked by Dementors… "Dementors?" he thought suddenly, "What are Dementors?" Meanwhile, the shrouded figure looked to him with an odd air about him, and released the boy from his magical grasp, deciding instead to stare at Harry as he laid spread eagled across the ground.
'I have obviously misjudged you Potter, not to listen to simple reason. You ARE unique. Whether you choose to believe it or not. Inside you now is power, that is so immense, it would force a wizard of the likes of Dumbledore to his knees, just as you bow defeated before me now!' the dark man let out a raucous laugh as he spoke, apparently quite delighted to have the boy cowering in front of his feet.
'It will come to you Harry, in sooner time than you can hope to expect. That I guarantee. The world will know soon enough of your coming, to fear you and the power you wield. In the end, all that will matter is your will and none other… However,' and for a moment he stopped, as though searching for some kind of response in the boy.
'Power may just go to your head Harry, and those that you love will be destroyed because of it. Unless of course, I help you. I alone have the magic to have you see sanity in every decision you make, in every spell you cast, and every incantation you speak. I alone can stop you from hurting both yourself and those you hold dear. And all you need do is pledge yourself to me… Say it. Say "I Harry Potter give myself and my power to you!" Speak now as this offer will not last.'
Harry's thoughts raced like wildfire burning a dead forest. If what this… man, said was true, then he could indeed be more of a danger than he realizes. He stared up into the man's face, only his mouth visible, moving silently to two silent words; "Say it, say it…" and inside he knew somehow that there was an air of falseness in that cold, seductive voice of his. A voice that never truly promised anything, except for deceit, and lots of it. Drawing himself back to his feet once more, he fixed the man with his most determined stare and spoke one single word…
'No.'
The man bit his lip absentmindedly, until his seductive smile, turned to a grimace, and then a snarl.
'FOOL!' he shouted in a tone that seemed to rock the very hills that surrounded him, and before Harry knew it, what felt like whips slashed his back in a thousand directions. The horrible pain of it increased with every lashing and the torture did not stop until Harry was once again face down on the ground. Only then did it finally and abruptly cease. The cloaked man made a pitying noise beneath his breath, his cold gaze sweeping the boy as he turned away from him.
'You know Harry…' he began suddenly, breaking Harry's grogginess. 'I will have you as my prize in all good time. You cannot escape me, you cannot escape your fate, and neither can you escape your own destiny.' He turned about and knelt down to Harry, only his mouth visible, to the boy who's bloodied face obscured all else, 'I guarantee you boy, that so long as you live, I will hunt you. Whether it be in the dream world or in the real, I will always be there to haunt your steps. And should it not be me who takes you…' his grimace turned into a sick looking smile, and he raised his hood, revealing two burning red eyes, that almost stopped Harry's heart, his dreams of old returning to him full circle,
'…Then somebody else will!' and in a swirling whisp of smoke, the man disappeared into the air with his echoing sounds of hysterical laughter, the world about him, beginning to shake and crumble like mounds of dust…
And Harry woke…
Charred earth and ash was all that met two grieved feet as they walked unhindered across a battered wasteland. Each footstep accompanied by a sickening crunch of burned clay, metal… or in some cases, flesh. Few other objects littered the blasted landscape that was once the bustling town of Hogsmeade. Trees stood uprooted, buildings destroyed, flames, some as large as houses burst from the ground every so often, and all the while, there was an ever present stench of smoke and rotten flesh upon the air. It's putrid smell clung to it and filled the noses of those brave enough to breathe. Nothing remained of the landscape, except for an incinerated shadow of it's former self.
Marius looked down at where he stood, noticing the half charred remains of an arm beneath his right foot. Cringing, he grinded his heel into the ground and snapped whatever solid bones were left in it, producing a sinister sounding series of cracks as his grieved foot twisted on the spot. A mild mannered smile twitched at the edges of his mouth, cruel pleasure pulsing through him. Elation was there too, filling him to the core, though in his lust for destruction, he'd never precisely learned as to why he felt this way.
Scanning the burned fields about him, he eyed with distaste the remains of over a thousand warriors, some being his muggle enemies, the remaining majority however, being of Heliopath descent. More Heliopaths were killed in the assault on Hogsmeade than there were in the muggle forces holding the town combined. He'd been tricked into thinking the muggles were as large a pushover as he'd imagined. A trap had been laid by them for any wizard force that should arrive. That it was he, Morheim Marius who fell into it made him feel more and more that it was precisely he himself who the trap had been designed. Almost as though it was to capitalize on his own headstrong nature, he knew afterall that was one of his primary faults.
Letting loose a deep sigh, he relaxed himself, and the cruel metal armor that surrounded his head, withdrew unceremoniously back into the folds of his skin. Marius couldn't help but clench his gauntleted fists so tightly that he was sure his knuckles were growing white beneath them. A loss, to muggles? Unthinkable! He remembered only a few short minutes before the end of the battle, the large majority of the muggle forces headed into the forbidden forest ignoring him, undoubtedly to rendezvous with others to assault Hogwarts directly, whilst leaving some brave soldiers behind to finish their dealings with the Heliopaths through tooth and nail, and to die if need be. The muggles had never intended to hold Hogsmeade for any extended period of time, but used it rather like a staging area. Marius had never seen anything of that like before. The muggles acted as if they were brainwashed somehow, following orders from a greater source. As far as he was concerned, all the muggles he'd so wonderfully set alight during his years, all treasured their lives as much as your average wizard, if not more so at confronting him. It just seemed strange. The muggles were there on the field physically, but mentally… he was not so sure.
A sudden snapping of branches to his right abruptly caught his attention. Craning his head to the noise, he turned to see a lone muggle dressed in camouflage rise to his feet from nearby rubble. With blood dripping precariously from a wound to his face, he menacingly held a rifle aimed to Marius's head. The old mage, wizened by his years eyed him with a glare that would've reduced any other man to their knees, but this man stood steadfast against him, meeting his glare with one of his own hatred and loathing for the wizard that stood before him. Of that it could not be denied. Marius could feel that anger inside of him, but also… a conflict. Probing deeper he knew the muggle hated him, or was perhaps afraid. Or maybe both. But there was none of that seemingly emotionless expression within him, as he'd encountered with others of his kind.
Toying with him, Marius probed further into the man's subconscious, using his power to his advantage until the muggle refused to take anymore.
'Enough of this torture!' he shouted aloud, breaking the mage's concentration, 'Your kind shouldn't be… shouldn't… you can't… argh…' he clutched his head with one of his hands, a sharp pain grabbing at his mind for a tense few moments, until just like the others, his pale face was seemingly devoid of emotion. Marius stared absent mindedly at the man as he raised the rifle, vision staring almost through him… and fired.
A brief second past without event. Marius stood rooted to the spot unharmed, the muggle staring with what little surprise as can be described, and attempted to fire again. A shallow clicking noise reverberated across the space between them both, the muggle had fired his last round. Slowly he turned his unconscious head to stare at the old man standing not ten paces from him, and his eyes widened a fraction. Marius stood stone still, meticulously eyeing the fired bullet as he magically held it mid air mere millimeters from his face. He grunted without satisfaction.
'Not wise,' he muttered shallowly beneath his breath, and in an instant the bullet flew backwards in the opposite direction, as fast as it had come, and pierced the muggle's skull…
Standing still for a second, the muggle's knees bent in on him, and he fell to the ground with a thud, his eyes still wide open, a haunting glaze starting to slide over them. Marius turned without another thought and walked away. This man had not been the first to die by his hand, he remembered. Many had gone in similar fashion, some with more dignity than others. He remembered setting a man's face on fire not long ago, and that man had ran to his friends for aid, only to spread the flames further and condemn them to death as well. A hollow laugh surged out of him as he mused the killing. He'd scored five whereas he'd only expected one. That was luck at it's finest, so he believed.
Others however had not been so fortunate to die in such a humorous manner. Withdrawing a tri-serrated knife from beneath his robes, he curiously eyed the blood stains it had accumulated, and smiled at the thoughts they provoked. The first to be cut down by this triple bladed weapon had his head pinned by it to a tree, until Marius second guessed himself and decided to return for the knife, his bond with it almost like a son, though he'd never sired any children of his own. If anything… and he eyed the cold steel thoroughly… this blade, or rather, blades, were as close to a son as he'd ever known.
Craning his neck up towards the forest, he watched in silence the motions of the giant magical shield that had been raised since his leaving. He thought carefully, and remembered a very obscure spell he learned in his time as an Auror. Sure he'd never had use of it, but then, a use never exactly came up. Summoning a shield as such wasn't something a person should attempt unaided, and he believed that even a powerful wizard like Dumbledore would need a stronger foundation of magic than he possessed to raise one. And the only place where such a foundation existed was… Realization struck him, and he furrowed his brow thoughtfully. Evading the shield was simple in his mind. He had… methods, with which he could surpass such defenses. As for an army… that remained to be seen. There was no telling how many muggles had already penetrated the shield's interior before it was raised, but at any rate, there was no use in sitting idly by thinking about it.
He looked up once more, staring at the shield with an odd look of resentment. The muggle army holding Hogsmeade had long disappeared into the forest and whether or not they could penetrate the shield when they arrived was too big a chance for him to risk. The remaining Heliopath forces had burrowed themselves under his own orders. It was a necessary precaution to take to ensure Dumbledore in his righteous might would not try to overturn his control of the army. And until his return, they would remain that way despite whatever may happen on the surface. Hence, that left Hogwarts defenseless against any prolonged attack, especially if Dumbledore was tied to the shielding spell he'd cast. The safety of Hogwarts, and therefore, everyone within remained solely in his own hands.
So with one last regretful sigh, he turned on his heel, and headed through the forest to the besieged castle of Hogwarts. Only time would tell if he was too late...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well there's chapter 16, going solidly as far as I can tell. By my calculations I think I'm about 2 thirds through the story, so this chapter should go nicely with the others. I hope this is an enthralling novel for you guys, I'll let you all in on a secret about this novel. I was absolutely tired of hearing in other fanfics (and even the original potter books heaven forbid) that muggles are always looked down on. Being muggles ourselves we know just as well that we're more than capable of killing a wizard. Now I'm not against wizards, quite the opposite, I'm all for them in the books, but I do think that muggles aren't given the credit they deserve, and with that thought I began this fan fiction. And the only way I believed it possible for the muggles to gain any kind of respect from wizards was through war. How and why this is happening will be revealed in later chapters, but until then I hope you all find this next installment to your liking. Anyway, questions... The spell in the last chapter that Dumbledore spoke was entirely my own creation. It took me a while to find suitable sounding words for it because they had to sound like they actually would fit the story. But that's the reason behind that at least. But more importantly, are you all getting excited?! This war will come full circle soon enough and I want you all to share in the adventure, because once it's done, you have the sequal to look forward to which is already in planning. And I assure you when I say that the sequal will be twice as good as this fic with more plot twists, new characters and terrifyingly powerful spells. This story is only the beginning and I will tell you all of the new story's title closer to the time I start it. Anyhow, happy reading, I've ranted on long enough.
Within hours of the shield being raised, those protected within began to find some sense of normality in themselves, if not sanity at the same time. Just that knowing at Hogwarts you were safe, was all that the survivors had been looking for, given the harsh measures these people had to resort to whilst under attack. Longing for organization, everyone who was alive was wrangled up together and given responsibilities to keep their minds off the present. For example, a sixth year student given charge of a first year's life and so on and so forth. How effective these measures would be wasn't known to anyone, though it did become apparent that it didn't have the desired affect of easing people's minds. The glowing mass of rippling energy above only served to remind them of the dire situation they were in. But for now at least, people's troubles were pushed as far back into their own minds as they would willingly allow. So much had happened, and everyone, regardless of their age or position, had grown out of all this.
Harry sat by a kindling fire beneath the shade of a large piece of granite. Ron and Hermione were accompanying him nearby, eyeing him grimly as he fiddled with a long cut on his arm, occasionally poking it with his wand. Ron winced every time Harry produced a squishy kind of sound, and excused himself thereafter. Most likely to throw up in a secluded corner if he were unlucky. Ron had never been very strong stomached about such things. Hermione on the other hand was much more developed in that manner, and watched the young boy with a distinct interest, despite going pale when he removed a very formidable looking shard of glass from beneath his skin, blood still dripping off it as he placed it on the ground. A small collection having been built up over several hours. Harry gave a long sigh.
'That's the last of it…' he spoke with a definite look of relief in his eyes, shooting a glance towards the small pile of glass on the ground next to him, 'I wasn't sure I'd get all that out, it's been giving me horrible pain for ages.'
Hermione glanced at the open wound, swallowing hard for a moment.
'I don't know how you stood the pain Harry, by the looks of it you must've had a whole window pane beneath your skin.' Harry glanced to her thoughtfully, and stared once more to the glass on the ground.
'Well… it's out now, though if I could've turned back time I'd have loved to be out of that corridor when that blast went off. It would've saved me a hell of a cleanup job.' He looked to Hermione curiously, a slight grin on his face. The young girl threw up her hands.
'Oh Harry, you know I don't have the…' she lowered her voice to a bare whisper, '… the time turner. I had to give it back ages ago, they wouldn't let me keep it. Not after Sirius escaped.'
Harry frowned a little, upset that she'd mentioned his godfather, but didn't give it much thought thereafter. "Wounds heal in time." He thought to himself musingly, spinning his wand around in his fingers, "And just as well too."
'You know Harry,' Hermione began with a touch of concern in her voice, 'You really should get that seen to.' She gestured to Harry's open wound, a slight look of distaste appearing on her face, 'Madam Pomfrey would do you a world of good and you know it.'
Harry cast his gaze over the field to where the school nurse was attending a long line of sick and injured people, some sporting far more grisly wounds than he. Harry grumbled incoherently.
'I'll have lost all my blood by the time she reaches me. Besides, it will heal up just as quick on it's own, if not more so.'
Hermione rose an unconvinced eyebrow as the boy shrugged his shoulders dismissively.
'Well, I suppose it is up to you afterall, but don't come crying to me if you start getting infected and all!' Harry smiled mischievously.
'I wouldn't anyway, I'd go to Madam Pomfrey!' Hermione let pass a small "tisk", before she got up in disgust and stormed off. Harry watched her leave with a slight frown on his face. "I'll never understand women."
Ron came back a few minutes later, holding in his hands a large wooden bucket. He didn't show Harry the contents, but judging by the odd twitching of his face, Harry could only guess he'd been throwing up in it, and felt more than happy not to see inside. Ron explained afterwards that Hagrid had given it to him permanently, as he'd found more use with it than Hagrid ever could, something that Harry could only stifle a laugh at thinking of. But inside it made him feel hollow. He hadn't gone to see Hagrid at all during the year, and the year was almost half gone. Even with Marius forbidding students access to the grounds, as well as current affairs being on his mind, how was it that he'd forgotten the one person he'd longed to see all through his summer holidays? Unconsciously he made a mental note to see him first chance he could.
Ron looked down at his arm, and Harry half expected him to throw up again, when instead, his eyes almost bulged out of his head in shock.
'Hey, what happened to your… you had a… err?'
Harry looked down himself and almost passed out to see that not only had his wound healed, but it had disappeared completely.
'What in the world?' he spoke softly to himself, rubbing the spot the cut had been. Only a few short minutes had passed and nothing remained of the wound that had pained him for so long, save for a small red mark. 'How did that…?'
Ron gave a choked gasp and looked to Harry with large questioning eyes.
'Mate you HAVE to get that checked, something about that smells wrong to me. I dunno what exactly but there's definitely something wrong going down there.' He held Harry's arm in a tight grip and looked at it from different angles, as though to make sure he knew what he was seeing. Harry pulled back self-protectively.
'Oh come on Ron,' he said in an exasperated tone, despite his friend only wanting to help, 'I'm not going to worry about something small like this, and even if I would, Dumbledore isn't about at the moment to give advice if you hadn't noticed… besides, you're starting to sound like Hermione, the way you're ranting on.'
Ron frowned somewhat, looking slightly hurt and stood up.
'I was just worried Harry!' he spoke defensively, 'You didn't have to bite my head off.' And in an instant, he'd turned on his heel and left, muttering angrily to himself. Harry felt rather awful afterwards and didn't feel up to talking to anyone else thereon. Just incase he unwittingly bit their heads off as well. Such luck he'd had, his tongue got him into more trouble than it was worth, he should think hard before he spoke again. He looked up into the sky, his neck craning to take in the giant bubble like shield as it stood sentinel over the school. It wasn't the kind of thing you could keep a steady eye on, the rippling energies of the shield often made him feel queasy in the stomach. Briefly he thought he may have to share Ron's bucket later on. His eyes sidled away. Dusk was coming quick to his eyes, and combined with the blue magic above, the magentas and oranges of the sky looked more like an odd assortment of purples and maroons, splashed with a tinge of yellow as the shield flickered slightly now and again. Night would be not long coming, and with two friends not speaking to him, the constant threat of attack, and his arm which despite all odds seemed perfectly fine, he couldn't see himself drifting into slumber easily.
But as dusk gave way to night soon after, Harry uncomfortably lied down on the cold rocky ground next to the waning fire… and slept, to dreams of his old four poster bed, and a strange magic that seemed to want to break free of him at last…
Uneasy sleep came to the denizens of Hogwarts. Their home destroyed and whatever dreams they had for themselves not likely to come to pass, there was nothing left for the masses of survivors to do except bed down and pray. Despite the shield, many still felt vulnerable, and the fear was always there that any of them could die tomorrow, shield or no shield, wands… or no wands. Little did any realize as they tossed and turned in their uneasy sleep, beyond the tree line of the forbidden forest… they were being watched.
Shrouded in the dark of night, a lone man sat unseen beneath the branches of an imposing redwood, his eyes trained to the lack of light, he stared without blinking at the masses of people who laid down beneath rock shelters both big and small. Barely breathing, he looked through a pair of binoculars about the ruins. He saw every now and then a teacher walking about. Keeping guard? He didn't know. Casually he fumbled about and withdrew a small walkie-talkie from his utility belt, and being careful not to make a sound, he switched a small dial to turn it on.
A soft crackling sound came over the earpiece for a moment, and he waited for it to subside as he flicked the dial back and forth, searching for the right frequency. Putting it to his mouth, he held down a button and spoke in as quiet a voice as possible.
'This is Alpha, Charlie, 26225… I've arrived at the designated coordinates and am awaiting orders…' he released the button, the crackling beginning again until a male voice responded from the other end.
'Acknowledged Marine 26225, have you located tangos (targets) ?' the man looked over the ruins once more, only the odd flicker of campfires lighting the darkness here and there. He pressed down the button once more.
'Affirmative command, tangos are in sight. Estimated enemy strength at three hundred, perhaps more… Please advise…'
'Acknowledged Marine, enemy strength has been calculated. You will rendezvous with support squad Charlie at pre-designated co-ordinates once assault squad Epsilon has reached your location.'
A sudden chord struck with the man. Squinting, he put the binoculars to his eyes and watched in silence. Through the green of his night vision he could discern two stirring figures… Soldiers? He turned the zoom dial upwards, trying to gain a better look… Children! He picked up the radio again and pressed down the talk button.
'Command!' he whispered hoarsely into the mouthpiece, not taking his eyes off the figures ahead, 'Tangos are civilians, repeat, tangos are civilians, task force Epsilon cannot advance as scheduled sir, please advise!'
A few tense moments drew by as the walkie-talkie remained silent, the man's heart starting to beat wildly. "Respond damn you. RESPOND!" he thought harshly. The radio crackled again…
'Marine 26225, task force Epsilon will advance as scheduled. Civilians will not hinder this operation. Over and out.' And as quick as it began, the radio clicked and fell silent once more, the frequency light dulling to a pale red as the signal was lost. The man sat bewildered for a moment, his eyes bulging from his head in horror. "Impossible, they don't mean to attack children do they?!" It just seemed wrong according to him.
Suddenly a terrible pain gripped him, it felt like splitting his head apart. Struggling not to make his position known, he ground his teeth together as tightly as he could, so as to muffle whatever sound of pain may come from him. But it was all he could do to bury his face into his hands and wish the pain to stop. An evil voice, echoed within his mind…
'You will obey slave, serve and obey. You will not question the purpose for which you have been ordained nor will you deny your master. Serve and obey the lord of the dead, serve and obey, serve and obey…' the words bore on, driving into his scalp until the pain suddenly left him, and he collapsed onto his back.
As his eyes slowly opened a moment later, he stared around, not truly aware of himself or anything else. He just stared. Eyes glazed over and unblinking, void of emotion, he sat as still as the trees that surrounded him. Unmoving… But even as he sat, he continued to mouth words softly into the air. Barely able to have been heard, even by the best of ears.
'I will… I must… To death will I obey…' and his whispers bore on into the dark… into the night.
Harry walked curiously about in a field of rolling green, interrupted now and again with splashes of vibrant colour from tightly knit groups of budding roses and pansies. Birds chirped and insects buzzed about the air, and with the ever present sense of ease that only a cool wind could bring, Harry felt an odd sort of contentment inside, almost as if he were reacquainting himself with nature as he last remembered it. He could not believe the amount it relaxed him so. And he decided to explore…
The quaintness of it all was touching. For every green grassed hill that Harry ran over, there was another valley or wood within it that shone with life a plenty, and it was all he could do to force himself against just flopping down into the knee high grass and rolling away his troubles. It was a paradise in his mind. An untouched wilderness that had survived all the odds in it's pristine… a thought grabbed him. "Against the odds? What odds?" He looked around the green hills and sun blessed flowers, on the trees that shone with an inescapable radiance. No muggles to be found here… "Muggles?! What are muggles? Why can't I remember? What exactly is this place? What… WHAT?!"
As if by instinct he reached into his robes… Nothing! "Where's my wand?!… Wait, what is a wand? Why am I… what… err?" a small stroke of panic began to echo in his mind. This place, he thought, was too pure. Something wasn't right for such perfection. And what were these thoughts he was having? A slow trickle of memory passed through him, as though he willed it to happen. Hogwarts… magic… muggles… Nothing made any sense to him. Just patterns, images and feelings. All seeping into him until he struck something bad. A sudden pain shot through his scalp and forced him to his knees, the hurting of it all too much to bare. A cold, cruel voice echoed in his mind.
'You are a difficult man to track down… Harry Potter!' another jolt of pain surged through him like lightning. Yet at the same time, more of his memory seemed to come to him. "Harry Potter?… My name?" But the thought receded as quick as it had come, his head feeling as though it were about to split at the seams. Meanwhile, his shadow lengthened, and from it, grew a tall cloaked figure of black. Despite not bothering to lift it's hood, Harry had the distinct impression the figure was staring straight at him, perhaps even through him.
'It's quite convenient you're vulnerable in your dreams…' it spoke suddenly, and deftly, he (Harry was sure it was male from his voice) waved a hand and Harry found himself launched into the air, higher and higher, only to be brought back down to earth as hard as a hammer. The ground felt hard, the long grass beneath him not breaking his fall, but rather, his ribs. Harry coughed violently. The pain was even more intense than he'd imagined, a small trickle of blood oozed from his mouth, the crunching of broken teeth breaking the air. The dark man stood rooted to the spot, seeming to watch the young boy toil away in agony. Harry had caught a small glimpse of him only… Moments later the figure raised his hand again, and Harry pulled himself into a tight ball, not wanting to go through the same pain again.
'NO!' the boy screamed, 'PLEASE, NO MORE!' and slowly the man's hand lowered, in a satisfied sort of way.
'Very well,' he spoke in an amused sort of tongue, still eyeing the hurt boy delightedly, 'So long as you respect whom is in charge here, you shall receive no more. Is this understood Potter?!' he took the boy's muffled groans of pain as a yes. Pacing slowly about him, the dark man watched silently, as though in a reverie all of his own. A thoughtful walk, every now and then shooting him a cold glance. Harry was sure of that… he could feel his eyes watching him.
'Now that we have the… pleasantries dispensed with, it is time we talked of the reason for which I am here in your slumber…'
Harry's eyes shot open despite the pains tugging ruthlessly at his stomach and face.
'Slumber?' Harry asked, his voice closer to a choke than smooth, 'I'm dreaming?!'
The man's sharp eyes dug into Harry the moment he spoke, and for a brief time what felt like some invisible club smashed him over the back of the head, almost knocking him out. The figure still stood staring, deathly calm, his breath not seeming to rise from it's rasping quality.
'Speak when I ask it of you child, what may not hurt you in the physical world can do much more damage to you here.' Harry sat curled up on the ground, clutching his bruised head with both hands. The man continued, just as cruel and malice ridden as before. 'As for your query, yes this is a dream, you needn't know anything more than that.' He didn't raise his hand again, and Harry forced himself to sit upright, glaring at the cold figure in his dream, despite the blood that was leaking from him so slowly.
'There is much that needs to be discussed between you and I Harry,' the dark man began, still searching him with those hidden eyes, 'I admit I have been somewhat preoccupied with events as of late to speak to you as such. But, not meaning to delve away from the point… you Harry are unique, did you know?'
Harry sat for a moment contemplating, not sure whether speaking would earn yet another thrashing, so he settled for a small, mild mannered nod. The figure drawled a laugh.
'I'm sure you already do, but not as you may think… Ages in your world come and go, each one giving way to the new with their own myths, legends and tales. Already you have had a taste of this, have you not. You are afterall the boy who lived, the boy who despite not having any notable magical talent destroyed one of the great Dark Wizards of your time; Lord Voldemort.'
Harry's memories continued to return, but he stared at him as though not quite taking in what he was saying. "What the hell are you on about, what's Voldemort to you anyway?" the man went on…
'Time continues to flow and demands a new beginning, as it always has in the past. The beginning of a new age. A small, yet often pivotal being or moment held within the threads of reality, that shapes a beginning. You will find if you have studied such as I have, that time is like a multi layered chessboard, with each layer being progressively different than the last. Time is not something that likes being fixed. It prefers to change, to revitalize itself at every given opportunity. Voldemort, despite surviving your initial encounter, was the end of an age some two hundred generations long. Ages also end with a pivotal moment in time as well, as though to rival the new which marks the beginning of another. Not only was it you who defeated him the first time, but you have also encountered him on several other occasions, and escaped with your life… You are indeed unique! Can you see therefore, to what I am referring?'
Harry stared back looking slack jawed, each word being absorbed into him like a sponge. Truly he didn't have the slightest inkling as to what the man meant, whoever he was. But still keeping his composure, he nodded reluctantly. And in that moment what felt like a hot iron being pressed upon him, seared his skin like flame. Every inch of his body feeling as though it had been scalded in a bucket of boiling water, choking the last scream Harry ever thought he could bare from his panting lungs.
'LIAR!' the dark figure shouted in anger, an aura of strong magic starting to burn around him, the sky above seeming to mimic his anger as well, with dark storm clouds broiling overhead, blotting out the sun.
'Are you not stupid?! Each age ends with a being of immense power. Is it not so plain that an imbecile could understand it? How can a boy with no magical talent whatsoever defeat such a powerful mage? A wizard that quelled fear into even the mightiest of witches and wizards alike?!'
Realization dawned on Harry for the first time, his mind starting to work even through the blinding pain he felt.
'I will tell you how, Harry Potter. You have not realized it yet, but you are one in a generation. A single being who has so much influence over the tides of magic that he can manipulate it without so much as thinking. Without even speaking… I mean wandless magic Harry. Few can comprehend it, and fewer still are able to practice it successfully. But you are that minority. That one person selected from thousands who can listen to the harmonic song that magic whispers in your ears, and change it at will.'
NO! It wasn't true. It couldn't be. He'd have known by now if he was anything out of the ordinary. Not this pivotal point of time that this… this… freak, was talking about. He was just Harry. Just plain old Harry!
Painfully he pulled himself to his feet, staring at the cloaked one with as much strength as he could muster.
'Impossible!' he spoke through harshly gritted teeth. 'I AM NOT UNIQUE!' and another sharp pain struck him again, behind his legs this time, forcing him to his knees. The figure staring down to him from beneath his hood. That arrogant, loathing stare that could pierce a man's skull if need be, and it was forcing every bit of happiness that Harry ever knew out of his mind, giving him some remembrance of being attacked by Dementors… "Dementors?" he thought suddenly, "What are Dementors?" Meanwhile, the shrouded figure looked to him with an odd air about him, and released the boy from his magical grasp, deciding instead to stare at Harry as he laid spread eagled across the ground.
'I have obviously misjudged you Potter, not to listen to simple reason. You ARE unique. Whether you choose to believe it or not. Inside you now is power, that is so immense, it would force a wizard of the likes of Dumbledore to his knees, just as you bow defeated before me now!' the dark man let out a raucous laugh as he spoke, apparently quite delighted to have the boy cowering in front of his feet.
'It will come to you Harry, in sooner time than you can hope to expect. That I guarantee. The world will know soon enough of your coming, to fear you and the power you wield. In the end, all that will matter is your will and none other… However,' and for a moment he stopped, as though searching for some kind of response in the boy.
'Power may just go to your head Harry, and those that you love will be destroyed because of it. Unless of course, I help you. I alone have the magic to have you see sanity in every decision you make, in every spell you cast, and every incantation you speak. I alone can stop you from hurting both yourself and those you hold dear. And all you need do is pledge yourself to me… Say it. Say "I Harry Potter give myself and my power to you!" Speak now as this offer will not last.'
Harry's thoughts raced like wildfire burning a dead forest. If what this… man, said was true, then he could indeed be more of a danger than he realizes. He stared up into the man's face, only his mouth visible, moving silently to two silent words; "Say it, say it…" and inside he knew somehow that there was an air of falseness in that cold, seductive voice of his. A voice that never truly promised anything, except for deceit, and lots of it. Drawing himself back to his feet once more, he fixed the man with his most determined stare and spoke one single word…
'No.'
The man bit his lip absentmindedly, until his seductive smile, turned to a grimace, and then a snarl.
'FOOL!' he shouted in a tone that seemed to rock the very hills that surrounded him, and before Harry knew it, what felt like whips slashed his back in a thousand directions. The horrible pain of it increased with every lashing and the torture did not stop until Harry was once again face down on the ground. Only then did it finally and abruptly cease. The cloaked man made a pitying noise beneath his breath, his cold gaze sweeping the boy as he turned away from him.
'You know Harry…' he began suddenly, breaking Harry's grogginess. 'I will have you as my prize in all good time. You cannot escape me, you cannot escape your fate, and neither can you escape your own destiny.' He turned about and knelt down to Harry, only his mouth visible, to the boy who's bloodied face obscured all else, 'I guarantee you boy, that so long as you live, I will hunt you. Whether it be in the dream world or in the real, I will always be there to haunt your steps. And should it not be me who takes you…' his grimace turned into a sick looking smile, and he raised his hood, revealing two burning red eyes, that almost stopped Harry's heart, his dreams of old returning to him full circle,
'…Then somebody else will!' and in a swirling whisp of smoke, the man disappeared into the air with his echoing sounds of hysterical laughter, the world about him, beginning to shake and crumble like mounds of dust…
And Harry woke…
Charred earth and ash was all that met two grieved feet as they walked unhindered across a battered wasteland. Each footstep accompanied by a sickening crunch of burned clay, metal… or in some cases, flesh. Few other objects littered the blasted landscape that was once the bustling town of Hogsmeade. Trees stood uprooted, buildings destroyed, flames, some as large as houses burst from the ground every so often, and all the while, there was an ever present stench of smoke and rotten flesh upon the air. It's putrid smell clung to it and filled the noses of those brave enough to breathe. Nothing remained of the landscape, except for an incinerated shadow of it's former self.
Marius looked down at where he stood, noticing the half charred remains of an arm beneath his right foot. Cringing, he grinded his heel into the ground and snapped whatever solid bones were left in it, producing a sinister sounding series of cracks as his grieved foot twisted on the spot. A mild mannered smile twitched at the edges of his mouth, cruel pleasure pulsing through him. Elation was there too, filling him to the core, though in his lust for destruction, he'd never precisely learned as to why he felt this way.
Scanning the burned fields about him, he eyed with distaste the remains of over a thousand warriors, some being his muggle enemies, the remaining majority however, being of Heliopath descent. More Heliopaths were killed in the assault on Hogsmeade than there were in the muggle forces holding the town combined. He'd been tricked into thinking the muggles were as large a pushover as he'd imagined. A trap had been laid by them for any wizard force that should arrive. That it was he, Morheim Marius who fell into it made him feel more and more that it was precisely he himself who the trap had been designed. Almost as though it was to capitalize on his own headstrong nature, he knew afterall that was one of his primary faults.
Letting loose a deep sigh, he relaxed himself, and the cruel metal armor that surrounded his head, withdrew unceremoniously back into the folds of his skin. Marius couldn't help but clench his gauntleted fists so tightly that he was sure his knuckles were growing white beneath them. A loss, to muggles? Unthinkable! He remembered only a few short minutes before the end of the battle, the large majority of the muggle forces headed into the forbidden forest ignoring him, undoubtedly to rendezvous with others to assault Hogwarts directly, whilst leaving some brave soldiers behind to finish their dealings with the Heliopaths through tooth and nail, and to die if need be. The muggles had never intended to hold Hogsmeade for any extended period of time, but used it rather like a staging area. Marius had never seen anything of that like before. The muggles acted as if they were brainwashed somehow, following orders from a greater source. As far as he was concerned, all the muggles he'd so wonderfully set alight during his years, all treasured their lives as much as your average wizard, if not more so at confronting him. It just seemed strange. The muggles were there on the field physically, but mentally… he was not so sure.
A sudden snapping of branches to his right abruptly caught his attention. Craning his head to the noise, he turned to see a lone muggle dressed in camouflage rise to his feet from nearby rubble. With blood dripping precariously from a wound to his face, he menacingly held a rifle aimed to Marius's head. The old mage, wizened by his years eyed him with a glare that would've reduced any other man to their knees, but this man stood steadfast against him, meeting his glare with one of his own hatred and loathing for the wizard that stood before him. Of that it could not be denied. Marius could feel that anger inside of him, but also… a conflict. Probing deeper he knew the muggle hated him, or was perhaps afraid. Or maybe both. But there was none of that seemingly emotionless expression within him, as he'd encountered with others of his kind.
Toying with him, Marius probed further into the man's subconscious, using his power to his advantage until the muggle refused to take anymore.
'Enough of this torture!' he shouted aloud, breaking the mage's concentration, 'Your kind shouldn't be… shouldn't… you can't… argh…' he clutched his head with one of his hands, a sharp pain grabbing at his mind for a tense few moments, until just like the others, his pale face was seemingly devoid of emotion. Marius stared absent mindedly at the man as he raised the rifle, vision staring almost through him… and fired.
A brief second past without event. Marius stood rooted to the spot unharmed, the muggle staring with what little surprise as can be described, and attempted to fire again. A shallow clicking noise reverberated across the space between them both, the muggle had fired his last round. Slowly he turned his unconscious head to stare at the old man standing not ten paces from him, and his eyes widened a fraction. Marius stood stone still, meticulously eyeing the fired bullet as he magically held it mid air mere millimeters from his face. He grunted without satisfaction.
'Not wise,' he muttered shallowly beneath his breath, and in an instant the bullet flew backwards in the opposite direction, as fast as it had come, and pierced the muggle's skull…
Standing still for a second, the muggle's knees bent in on him, and he fell to the ground with a thud, his eyes still wide open, a haunting glaze starting to slide over them. Marius turned without another thought and walked away. This man had not been the first to die by his hand, he remembered. Many had gone in similar fashion, some with more dignity than others. He remembered setting a man's face on fire not long ago, and that man had ran to his friends for aid, only to spread the flames further and condemn them to death as well. A hollow laugh surged out of him as he mused the killing. He'd scored five whereas he'd only expected one. That was luck at it's finest, so he believed.
Others however had not been so fortunate to die in such a humorous manner. Withdrawing a tri-serrated knife from beneath his robes, he curiously eyed the blood stains it had accumulated, and smiled at the thoughts they provoked. The first to be cut down by this triple bladed weapon had his head pinned by it to a tree, until Marius second guessed himself and decided to return for the knife, his bond with it almost like a son, though he'd never sired any children of his own. If anything… and he eyed the cold steel thoroughly… this blade, or rather, blades, were as close to a son as he'd ever known.
Craning his neck up towards the forest, he watched in silence the motions of the giant magical shield that had been raised since his leaving. He thought carefully, and remembered a very obscure spell he learned in his time as an Auror. Sure he'd never had use of it, but then, a use never exactly came up. Summoning a shield as such wasn't something a person should attempt unaided, and he believed that even a powerful wizard like Dumbledore would need a stronger foundation of magic than he possessed to raise one. And the only place where such a foundation existed was… Realization struck him, and he furrowed his brow thoughtfully. Evading the shield was simple in his mind. He had… methods, with which he could surpass such defenses. As for an army… that remained to be seen. There was no telling how many muggles had already penetrated the shield's interior before it was raised, but at any rate, there was no use in sitting idly by thinking about it.
He looked up once more, staring at the shield with an odd look of resentment. The muggle army holding Hogsmeade had long disappeared into the forest and whether or not they could penetrate the shield when they arrived was too big a chance for him to risk. The remaining Heliopath forces had burrowed themselves under his own orders. It was a necessary precaution to take to ensure Dumbledore in his righteous might would not try to overturn his control of the army. And until his return, they would remain that way despite whatever may happen on the surface. Hence, that left Hogwarts defenseless against any prolonged attack, especially if Dumbledore was tied to the shielding spell he'd cast. The safety of Hogwarts, and therefore, everyone within remained solely in his own hands.
So with one last regretful sigh, he turned on his heel, and headed through the forest to the besieged castle of Hogwarts. Only time would tell if he was too late...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well there's chapter 16, going solidly as far as I can tell. By my calculations I think I'm about 2 thirds through the story, so this chapter should go nicely with the others. I hope this is an enthralling novel for you guys, I'll let you all in on a secret about this novel. I was absolutely tired of hearing in other fanfics (and even the original potter books heaven forbid) that muggles are always looked down on. Being muggles ourselves we know just as well that we're more than capable of killing a wizard. Now I'm not against wizards, quite the opposite, I'm all for them in the books, but I do think that muggles aren't given the credit they deserve, and with that thought I began this fan fiction. And the only way I believed it possible for the muggles to gain any kind of respect from wizards was through war. How and why this is happening will be revealed in later chapters, but until then I hope you all find this next installment to your liking. Anyway, questions... The spell in the last chapter that Dumbledore spoke was entirely my own creation. It took me a while to find suitable sounding words for it because they had to sound like they actually would fit the story. But that's the reason behind that at least. But more importantly, are you all getting excited?! This war will come full circle soon enough and I want you all to share in the adventure, because once it's done, you have the sequal to look forward to which is already in planning. And I assure you when I say that the sequal will be twice as good as this fic with more plot twists, new characters and terrifyingly powerful spells. This story is only the beginning and I will tell you all of the new story's title closer to the time I start it. Anyhow, happy reading, I've ranted on long enough.