Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except plotlines, clans and their members, and Grey Tower.
***
Chapter Thirty-One: Shadows of SilverThere were some people that really appreciated the stars. And there were those that were obsessed.
There were some people that really believed in divination. And there were those that seemed to live their entire lives on the study.
Lirenas, in Dudley's point of view, was the extreme latter in both of these cases.
The dark-skinned demon was currently lying in the middle of the Dursley backyard, looking up at the white distant stars with a burning intensity. The moon was still rising in the newly fallen evening, a pale waning crescent against the deep black of the sky. He seemed not to mind the dampening grass of the lawn or the descending chill that was descending on the land. No, he seemed perfectly fine, if one discounted his obvious nervousness.
Striding over to where Lirenas currently was, looking up to the heavens as well. "I don't know how you can bloody well see the future by just watching stars," he commented flatly.
"It is simple really," came the serene reply. "You just have to know what patterns to look for and what history the star has."
"You make it seem as if the stars were thinking beings," he scoffed.
Lirenas gave him a skeptical look with his striking violet, otherworldly eyes. "What else would they be?"
Dudley blinked. "Umm…spheres of heated gases held together by the forces of gravity?"
The demon raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "What a naïve concept. Do all humans hold this view?"
Taking a seat beside Lirenas, Dudley replied, "No…some believe that the stars are actually the souls of the dead."
"Another strange idea. The souls of the dead are usually reincarnated. Those that aren't either are ghosts, poltergeists, or move on to another plane of existence. The stars are the stars. They aren't gods, they aren't human, and they are neither demons nor angels. They just…are. I believe that the view of 'guardian angels' came from the tradition of a specific star looking after you."
"Really?" asked the human, interested. "How so?"
"When an individual, human or demon, is born, a star is destined to watch over them. Each has their own history and tales to tell." Lirenas pointed to a group of nondescript bright stars located in the west, where the last vestiges of the sun were fading out. "That one right there…that is your star. I believe he is known by the name Ryhelm. He is one of the few warrior stars and is known for his righteousness." He then gestured to the north. "There is your friend Alyce's star, Sered. She is a star of harmony, of balance. The stars of the other two are in the winter skies. Jerry's is Bever, a star known for his steadfastness and loyalty. Cami's is Melisande, a star of foresight and counsel. Mine is also in the winter sky: Gan, she who listens with the heart and sees true."
"How odd that they seem to embody the characteristics that we have."
"It is the way that universe works. The star tells of the person's personality, their nature, guides, and protects them."
"Say," Dudley started, an idea forming in his mind. "Can you be able to tell a person's…location, from their star?"
"Yes."
Dudley resisted the urge to jump up and do a victory dance. First of all, it would look rather odd. Secondly, he couldn't dance. But that was beside the point. "Can you find my cousin through his star?"
"What is his name and date of birth?"
"Harry Potter. July 31st."
Lirenas paused for a moment, perusing the skies quickly with his violet eyes. Finally, when Dudley was about just leave Lirenas to his looking, the demon seemed to have an answer. "I see…so that is why."
"You found his star?!"
"Yes, but she refuses to say where he is. A truly noble star, indeed, but one that…has a reputation."
"Care to clarify?"
"There are certain stars that are much more…notorious than others. It happened long ago. When the Harbingers bestowed the Gift – which sealed their fate – upon all living organisms, was when the stars decided to watch over the souls of humans and demons. But that story is for another time. The point is that certain stars were particularly close to the Harbingers. It is said that those born under these particular stars have the destiny to destroy and create, much like the Harbingers did."
"What are you saying?"
"Your cousin's star is Isis Reina. She is a star of wisdom and of darkness. A star of death and rebirth, a Harbinger's star. The destiny of your cousin is connected with the immortals and with all of humanity. She shines bright, which is a sign of great power and strength."
Dudley sighed. "Somehow, I'm not too surprised."
Bored.
Bored.
Bored.
That was all he had to say about the way this history lesson was going.
The heat had once more set upon Surrey and made the dull classroom stifling beyond belief. From its plain beige walls to the spotlessly clean floor, the room screamed, "boring". If rooms could scream. Or if one as lackluster as this could manage to even sigh it. Dudley couldn't even read what students before him had engraved upon the desks. The surface of each of them was smooth and polished, unblemished, with absolutely no sign of mauling or graffiti.
Dudley did have to admit that it was better than Smeltings. After all, classes such of this erupted into a war of striking and belting each other with their knobby sticks. And there were a lot of those classes back at that preppy institution.
Ironically enough, this was the one class he had with all his friends…and allies. He still had no idea what to call 'Lirenas Muwambe' yet. Jerry sat at the desk next to him, fast asleep, and it looked as if some drool was going to drip out of his mouth onto his open, blank notebook. Alyce's eyes kept fluttering shut, before snapping open. Repeat process many times. Cami sat behind him (the teacher's seating chart was very odd), so he couldn't see what she was doing. Lirenas looked mildly interested. Mildly. Dudley was amazed that something like the Battle of Waterloo could be made so…
Boring.
It was a battle, wasn't it? A side won, tasted the joys of victory. Another side lost, feeling the pang of aching defeat. And something had to have gone on…like, fighting, for instance?
But no. Mr. Lorne had made the entire event seem as engrossing as Aunt Marge's bulldogs. At the beginning of the year, he had seemed like a nice teacher, with a lot to do. He was one of those young, new teachers. The kind that you thought hadn't yet realized that the students rarely gave a damn about what they were saying. They were slogging through British history like a fly through molasses. Very slowly. Though Dudley thought that if a fly did go through molasses, then it would be dead pretty quickly.
The irony of the parallels.
His reception at Stonewall High could've been worse. It was a bit disheartening to see many of the students literally scamper out of his way. Dudley surmised that a reputation as horrible as his should have such an effect from the others. Jerry, Alyce, and Cami stayed by him, giving glares to those who dared to start whispering things about him. They defended him loyally, even when he told them that many of the rumors were true. Lirenas was new and was relatively accepted. Relatively. The demon's presence, despite his many attempts to make himself appear moderately human, apparently was felt on some level. Most conversations that had passed between the humans and Lirenas were short, to the point, and finished very quickly.
Lirenas didn't seem to care all that much.
In short, he couldn't wait to get out of this class. There were a few more periods until school finally let up and they could return to one of their homes. Then they would do their homework as a group, have dinner, before going demon hunting. It was a predictable pattern. The only main situation that required all of them to leave school was against a fire demon that had "business" at a hospital. They all had made the excuse of going to the bathroom and, thankfully, all five of them were in different classes.
That one was a close one.
But then they had to explain why it took so long for them to return from the loo.
A ball of lined paper hit him square in the forehead. Looking around in confusion, he saw Alyce waved at him…before yawning. Furtively checking if Mr. Lorne was paying any attention, he opened the ball of crumpled paper to find a message in Alyce's loopy bubbly handwriting.
Dudley,
Remind me to bring something to do next time. Like a videogame or a magazine! I would even read War and Peace!
…I'm going insane.
~Alyce
Dudley couldn't help but grin in amusement.
"Is the location secured?"
"Yes. Though I really don't see the point…"
"Of course there's a reason! Everyone knows how much security Muggles put on these people."
"Pheh…what do you expect? They don't have any magic, the worthless lot of 'em."
"Just shut up and do your job, imbecile. Did you find the room?"
"Room 76 on Level C…whatever that means."
"It's called looking at a map. You and these five will come with me. The rest of you will prevent any interference. Understood? Then let's go."
A wayward breeze ruffled the neatly trimmed lawns of St. Claire's Mental Institution. It was a chill zephyr, one whose essence carried naught but ill tidings. Befitting for the events that would take place that night. It would be in the papers the next day. The gruesome incident outlined for all to see in stark black ink against pale white.
The establishment itself had a respectable front, if rigidly clinical in appearance. The grounds were always meticulously cared for with a severity of a knife. The maple trees were cut in an attempt to make them look aesthetically pleasing, but only succeeded with a flat and otherwise artificial visage. There was not a flowerbed that was not filled with a riot of blooms and clear of weeds. Even the road that lead up to the stone and glass building was clean and smooth. The name of the building was lit up in harsh white lights.
It is doubtful that the black-cloaked, white-masked figures converging and taking the building even cared of this. They weren't the type to "lower" themselves to such behavior.
Twin glass doors slid open with electronic efficiency. A group of the black-robed men, seven to be exact, walked purposefully into the sterile institution's reception area. At the front desk, a stout man in the garb of a security guard lay limp in his chair, eyes staring blankly ahead in the emptiness of death. Opening a side door, where another large man (this time in white) was sprawled dead on the ground, they ascended the stairs leading to the upper floors, paying especial attention to the gaudy plastic signs proclaiming the floor level. They exited onto Level C when they reached the correct landing, making no noise in the progress.
They passed the various lifeless bodies scattered here and there around the hallway with an easy detachment. All of the victims were unmarked, but every one of them possessed an expression of fear and terror, transfixed on their faces for all to see in the grim fluorescent lighting. The only living beings in the entire building were incarcerated in their padded rooms, oblivious to all going on outside their barred doors, living in their own worlds. They weren't killed because they weren't any threat in the first place. And death might be seen as merciful when applied to these unfortunate souls trapped in their minds.
It was one such individual that was going to receive the Death Eaters as visitors this fateful night.
"This is it. Room 72."
"Open the door."
"Locked. What are we going to do?" Similar queries erupted from the other five men.
"You are a moron. Alohamora!" The door, a shiny slab of cold relentless metal, creaked open. It revealed a room with padded floors and walls, obviously meant to prevent the inhabitant from causing injury to himself. Though it was not very necessary. Its denizen was currently huddled in a corner, a large mass of darkness in the now dimmer lighting. He was a wreck: shaking hands and shoulders, a receding hairline, and half a mustache (of the other half was lying not too far off, evidently pulled out). He had a bemused smile on his face, his eyes manic and beady. Such was the state of Vernon Dursley, the once proud worker of Grunnings Drill Company. The one who had caused the abuse of the wizarding world's supposed savior: Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.
It was truly a disgusting sight to see. Behind his mask, the leader's lip curled in disgust. A pathetic excuse for a human being was cowering before him, unseeing of reality and subject to the terrors of his own imagination.
"Dursley." There was no response. "Dursley!"
The broken man looked up with his panicked small eyes, not seeming to focus on the identity of the speaker. "I can't get away, you know. The Blue Eyes are here…"
"I don't care about any 'Blue Eyes'," the leader sneered. "Where's Potter?"
"Potter?"
"Harry Potter!" the second-in-command interrupted harshly. "Where's the boy?!"
"Silence, you ignor-"
"The boy!" Dursley exclaimed maniacally. "The boy! You won't find him. Not with the Blue Eyes. They have the same eyes…"
"Potter has green eyes, you fool!"
"The same look…the same damned look!" Dursley then started to laugh, an insane mirth that barely reverberated in the room's padded interior. "The Goddess of Darkness! She who rules over the dead!" He threw back his head and laughed once more. "You'll never find him! Salvation! Deliverance will only come from darkness! Deceit laughs in amusement! Death wears the mask of friendliness and walks among the living! Light has abandoned us all!"
A few of the Death Eaters were backing away from the obviously unstable man, still cackling in his corner. "Kill him," the leader said flatly. "Kill him and let's be done with this. We won't get any information out of him. Let's look for the son." He strode out of the room, muttering darkly to himself, as the cell was soon lit with the bright green light of Avada Kedavra.
The last word to be uttered by the lips of Vernon Dursley was simple and profound. "Redemption."
Blow after blow buffeted the large insect-like demon, eliciting unearthly shrieks from its gaping pincer-like jaws before it finally fell. Dudley quickly wiped the sweat forming on his forehead before moving onto the next one.
This group was a rowdy bunch. And a truly disgusting one as well. According to the Mancer's quick analysis, the demons were known as the Sysanids of a principally nasty part of the dark realms. They tended to congregate in swampy or derelict areas and multiply into a large colony, gradually taking over the areas around it.
As far as Dudley was concerned, they were particularly large and dangerous roaches and he needed a very (VERY) large can of bug-spray. The demons were about a foot taller than his 5'8 and were intimidating enough. Black exoskeletons glimmered in the flickering lights of the landfill. Someplace he'd never thought he'd be. Iridescent eyes blinked sickeningly at him as their antennae twitched in response to the movement around them. Their pincers and claws were sharp and made it known very clearly that they were carnivorous. That, and the abandoned motorbikes not too far off.
It was a newspaper article that first caught their interest. It wasn't everyday that the police located the bloodied clothing of well-known gangs. The Hyenas, as they were called, were known for being especially tough and out of control. They had to be, in order to evade police capture for so long. However, the autopsy made on arrival was chilling. There wasn't much left…only a few bones and some organs. The coroner thought it was a wild animal attack since the bones happened to be gnawed viciously to the marrow.
That was a clear sign enough of demon activity. A quick scan of the Mancer verified it.
But why weren't they notified before?
Simple. They were busy at the time stopping a Minotaur demon from attacking an orphanage in Northern Ireland. And a rampaging demon with a bull's head required a lot of attention from the said people trying to take care of it. Dudley had reckoned he had nearly gotten gored twenty times before Alyce lost her temper and punched it right in between the eyes.
After that hit, even Jerry had to feel bad for the demon. They quickly dispatched its unconscious form back to the dark realms using the Mancer's teleporter.
But they were dealing with it now weren't they? Thankfully, the landfill was deserted because of the alert the authorities had put out. There was no need to be on the look out for witnesses or bystanders. As a result, the job wasn't going as slow as it usually was. It helped that they had gotten stronger also. It was amazing what only a few weeks could do. Alyce mastered her spirit daggers and her improving healing abilities were proving invaluable to the team. Cami managed to perfect her shields and her spirit awareness was much stronger than it had ever been. Also, she learned how to use that awareness to her advantage. Using a spirit bow and arrow with sight was difficult enough, but the blind girl was doing fine. A couple of raids had been made easier by using her as a sniper. Lirenas, who admitted (privately) that he was not considered a strong demon, was doing better. He himself was gaining more proficiency with the spirit gun and sword.
And Jerry, he was learning more patience and self-control.
"You disgusting pieces of filth! I'll kill you bloody pricks if it's the last thing I do!"
Well, towards other kinds of demons. Jerry had a…thing against bugs.
There was a sickening splat.
Yeah. It was a big thing against bugs.
Dudley had to shake his head as Jerry proceeded to spout more profanity. Ducking the deadly pincers, he managed to blast the bug in its weak abdomen, effectively killing it. Lirenas took out the last one with a sharp spinning kick to the head.
Alyce, looking over the damage and themselves, eloquently summed up the resulting end to their battle. "Yuck!" She tried to wipe off some of the bug guts (she was near Jerry at the time) until she realized what she was touching. Then she shook her hands in disgust before rounding on Jerry. "What on Earth were you doing?!"
Walking up to her, Dudley commented dryly, "I don't think he can hear you." He was amused to see that he was relatively clean compared to her. Cami wasn't as mucked up from the battle as Alyce was either. Though Dudley thought that Sammy had something to do with it.
That dog was very protective of its master. Even to the point of jumping into a demon brawl. Quite a canine.
"What do you mean?" Alyce demanded.
Lirenas pointed and deadpanned, "He means that."
Jerry, in his supposed righteous and well-founded rage, was still battering on the dead Sysanid demon. "Take that! And that!" He continued with the profanity, drawing an exasperated sigh from Lirenas and amused giggle from Cami. Alyce looked plain indignant.
"I know he hates bugs, but c'mon!"
"Hey! Someone get me a stick!"
Dudley raised an eyebrow. "I see what you mean." He supposed that this was Jerry's way of taking out his frustration though. The Maplethorpes were biologists and had a habit of taking their work home. Unfortunately, they were working with bugs for the past couple of months. Jerry was nearly close to the breaking point. Dudley did have to admit sharing his home with potentially deadly and poisonous insects didn't sound too inviting. Though this weekend, Dr. Maplethorpe (Jerry's dad) and Professor Maplethorpe (Jerry's mom) brought home two particularly revolting insects: a Kandorean tapeworm, which was the largest tapeworm in the world, and Behemoth roach, a poisonous and very large roach. Maybe that was it. The Sysanids did have a striking resemblance to the roach.
Before Dudley could muddle over his musings further, Sammy's growl pervaded his thoughts. The golden retriever was on edge, snarling and growling as if it were threatened. Dudley looked around the landfill. Nothing out of the ordinary. Unless you counted the Sysanids. But other than that, nothing.
"Let's get out of here," Cami said in an urgent voice. "It's…them, again."
"Them?" Alyce reiterated.
An epiphany. Dudley murmured, "Reapers."
Lirenas nodded before going forward. Grabbing Jerry's arm, he dragged the human boy away from the (obviously) dead Sysanid and headed towards the landfills exit. The two girls followed. Dudley hung around for a minute longer, Sammy's tense form by his side.
The landfill light flickered off before turning on once more.
Underneath its fluorescent light stood a dog. It was two times larger than the golden retriever was and could easily match Dudley's height if it stood upright. With fur as black as the darkest night and wicked white teeth bared in a ferocious snarl, it leered at them with intelligent and threatening eyes.
The light flickered off again.
When it came back on, the dog was gone.
"Dudley, c'mon!"
Sharing an alarmed look with the seeing-eye dog, man and animal followed after their friends.
The next morning, Dudley would return to the landfill out of curiosity.
There would be nothing there. Only an empty lot.
"Ewww…"
"I second that!"
"Shut it, Jerry! You were the one that got us covered in bug guts anyway!"
"Me? ME?! You're blaming me for getting you like that?!"
"Yes!"
"How was it my fault?!"
"Children…" This came from Lirenas.
"Yes! Thank you, Lirenas! You were acting like a child, Jerry!"
"I wasn't, Alyce! Those were bugs! Disgusting, foul, nauseating-"
Cami cut in with, "I think she knows that well enough since she's covered in their entrails."
"Ugh! Must you make it sound worse?!"
Such was the topic of conversation between the five demon hunters as they were teleported back to Surrey from the back roads of northern England. Of course, they would be quite a sight to see on the street. Teenagers aren't supposed to be out in the extremely early mornings of the day, when the sun was still set to rise in a few hours, covered in muck and sweat. Actually, teenagers their age weren't supposed to be out at that late hour at all. Little Whinging had a curfew.
So, not only were they disobeying their parents by going out this late but also the law.
All just to help save the world. Life was just funny like that.
It was doubtful that the residents of Little Whinging would even allow them back into their neighborhood if they were seen. Such were the uptight residents of the tiny Surrey town. Any sign of abnormality was immediately looked upon with suspicion.
It had the quaint look of a suburban town at night. Orange streetlights were casting halos of light from shiny metallic poles. Prim fences separated each house from each other with grim straight lines. Each house had blank windows, with not a sign of life within them. No cars sped down the community's lanes nor were there any pedestrians out other than they. The neatly trimmed bushes rustled in the errant breeze of the night.
Dudley stopped in his tracks. A chill ran through his still large, but slowly slimming, body. What was the expression?
It felt as if someone had walked over his grave.
"Something's wrong," Dudley interrupted, cutting off what would be a biting retort from Jerry. The rest of the party stopped to look at him. Jerry's brown eyes held confusion, as did Alyce's. Cami gripped Sammy's leash harder, but did not look around. Her dark glasses looked hauntingly eerie in the late hour. Lirenas showed no reaction at all other than the tensing of his body.
"How right you are," came a voice. It definitely did not belong to any of the demon hunters.
A series of popping and cracking noises surrounded the group, loud in the quiet night.
It wasn't long until they were encircled by at least thirty men. Each wore sinister black robes, hoods over their heads. The orange streetlights made the white masks over their faces appear even more menacing, accentuating the cold inhumanity that shone each wizard's eyes. Wands were raised, the tips of the wooden wizard tools pointed directly at them.
Dudley mentally cursed. Even with the entire group there, it would be hard to beat them. They were spent from the recent fight, a tough one at that, while these wizards were obviously ready and prepared.
"Where's Harry Potter, muggle?" the leader of the dark wizards ordered.
"Like I said to the last group that came here," Dudley replied, "I don't know."
"You must be lying. Your family did nearly kill the boy, after all."
Dudley winced at this. It still was hard to admit that and his conscience was still railing him on that one. "Wouldn't I have told the Aurors if I did?" he responded boldly, keeping his voice steady and clear.
"Well then. There is no use for you to live then. But at least you could hold a conversation better than your miserable excuse for a father."
"What about my father?!"
"We paid a visit. The fool kept screaming about some blue eyes," the leader scoffed. Sneering, he next said, "Let's hope he finds peace in death."
And that was when all pandemonium broke loose.
Night lay in his comfortable bed in his room, staring languidly up at the ceiling in thought. He knew he should be sleeping. He did have a tournament match coming up the next day, after all. And it was an important one: the semi-finals. If he won that match, he'd be in the finals. One step closer to the finals… Which was one step closer to winning the tournament and gaining the prestigious title of Black Dragon, bringing honor to the Hawking name. He swore to himself that he would accomplish this goal. He swore it on the name of the Dark Lady of Annuvin.
Smiling indulgently, he wiggled his toes under the warm layers of blankets. This educed a tired and confused mew from the black feline currently sleeping on top of his feet. Chuckling softly, his eyelids shuttered close to begin the peaceful journey into the land of dreams.
Life was good.
And it was at that moment, exactly that moment, when he thought he heard the mournful sounds of a violin.
The impact of his body landing hard on a rough surface that was most certainly not his bed jolted him awake with a start. Quickly sitting upright, he found himself on top of a roof, the coarse shingles chafing his elbows. Looking at his feet, he found Shadow looking at him with an indignant glare in its green eyes. He shrugged to show his confusion. The cat attempted to gather what poise it could by clambering off his feet, before arching its back, its teeth bared in a feral hiss.
Night blinked before turning getting up to look behind him. His mind immediately registering potential danger, he prepared himself in case of a possible attack. A wind elemental sword formed in his right hand, a comforting feeling since he wasn't in the open. It was then, when he recognized one of the two figures watching him with amused interest, he realized that he wasn't in any real sort of danger.
"Lady Nyx," he murmured respectfully. Indeed, the regal white-haired goddess of the night was there. It was impossible not to recognize her. She stood smiling kindly at him, her brown eyes welcoming in their insight and knowledge. He kept his elemental sword out though, not trusting the man beside her. He gave him the feeling that he should be on the alert. His attention turned from the mysterious man in the dark trenchcoat and hat with the longish black hair when the white-haired goddess spoke.
"I am truly sorry, child," she apologized. "I had no intention of bringing you here."
The man sniggered. "Of course, she didn't. But the gift of silver sight does have its inconveniences, does it not?" This partially explained how he arrived here. His silver sight had been activated somehow through Lady Nyx…and here he was. Shadow moved in front of him, still on edge, giving the two a menacing glower. However, the man just laughed. "So, it is true! The spirit of destruction has found its master…" Night found himself the recipient of a mordant smirk. "I knew this would be interesting."
"Interesting?" Night reiterated skeptically, looking at the man with a suspicious expression.
Nyx sighed. "Excuse him, he is the 'smug' type, much like his father. He is one of my sons." She gave the older man a reproving glare, which her son promptly ignored.
"Moros, god of trickery and deceit, at your service," he said, bowing low with a dark smile. Somehow, Night got the feeling that if Moros were at his service, he was to expect a lot of trouble to come out of it.
Instincts were wonderful things.
Moros went on, speaking in a smooth tone. "Mother was using her silver sight, as was I. You must still be new to the gift, if you were summoned to us the way you were."
"Right," he replied offhandedly, shivering slightly. He was only in a loose t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He wasn't really expecting to find himself on the roof of a random house that definitely wasn't in Grey Tower with two immortal deities. Sleep was what he had in mind. "Exactly, how do I get back?"
"When we're done," Nyx replied. "I'm afraid that you must stay with us, since our control over the technique is stronger than your own. We'll just summon you again if we send you back." She once more gave a scolding gaze at Moros, who this time backed away a bit. "Under normal circumstances, this would not have happened. I wonder if someone had done this purposely." She emphasized each word with a stronger glare, making the older man wince with every veiled accusation.
"Now mother…"
"I don't want to hear it."
"Mum!"
"What did I say, young man?!"
A sigh. "Yes, mum."
"That's better."
Night had to suppress the urge to laugh. Zylle had done a similar thing when the tournament's last round had ended. Immediately, she began to look at his leg (which was healed by the competent medic before) with concern before rounding on him. No matter how much he tried to placate her, she was relentless in chewing him out for making her worry about him. And a leg wound was a very serious injury to a wind elemental especially, since they relied a lot on speed. She had rushed him home immediately, fussing over him and scolding him at the same time.
It had to be the ultimate example of mixed messages. While it had him on one level very confused, it was comforting that she showed so much care for him.
He was sort of miffed that Nyx had called him a child, though. Well, he probably was very young compared to her. And the fact that she called her son 'young man' when Moros looked to be in his early thirties was probably another fact to support this.
Night opened his mouth to voice another inquiry, but a large explosion sounded in the street below before he could form the words. He walked over next to Lady Nyx, looking curiously down at the street, Shadow at his heels.
Before him was obviously a battle. Flashes of light volleyed back and forth between the two groups. He recognized a few of them: the red stunning and disarming spells, a few hexes, and several dangerous curses. But everything was still frightfully blurry, his glasses and contact lenses both at home. He squinted to attempt to see what was going on better, but to no avail.
"Trouble?" Moros asked, a wry tone emanating from his debonair voice.
"I can't see," Night stated bluntly. "No glasses."
"Use silver sight then."
"What?"
"Use…silver…sight."
"I heard that," he replied crossly, "I just don't know how."
Nyx sent another reprimanding look towards her son, who merely shrugged and turned back to look at the fight. "It's very simple really. There will be times where you can't control it, of course, but overall it's extremely to use. Just concentrate on seeing clearly and everything and there you go," she explained, patient and lucid. "There is a catchphrases in Latin, Aramaic, and Arabic – wonderful languages – but they escape me for the moment. You'll have to use your entire focus to do this." She was close to him, so he could visibly see the judicious brown eyes were gone, replaced by unearthly and mysterious silver.
Clearly. Clearly. Clearly. He repeated this mantra in his head in a rhythmical beat, willing his near-sighted eyes to see what was taking place clearly. He knew he was getting it when he noticed the clarity at the edges of his sight. But he was fast losing patience. Damn it, I want to see what's going on!
He was nearly knocked off his feet from shock when everything sidled into accurate and stunningly clear view.
"Amateur."
"Moros!"
"Sorry, mum."
"You're just as bad as your younger brother. Honestly! I expected as much from Thanatos, but not from you," she admonished before turning back to him. "I see you've got it now. Can you see what's going on?" The goddess shook her head sadly and tsked, "Truly awful, what those young ones are doing to those children."
"Well mother," Moros interceded, "what do you expect from mortals?"
"When did you become so jaded?"
"Years ago. I found that cynicism prevents me from being appalled from the gradually declined state of mortal humanity."
Nyx sniffed indignantly. "Keep talking like that and you'll be having a talk with your father…and maybe your aunts. Silencio, por favor as they say in Spanish."
"Sí, mi máma querida."
All this was in the background as Night looked on the battle going on with wide-eyed horror. The wizards were obviously the ones cloaked in black, their faces covered in pearl white masks. About thirty of them were there, firing volley after volley of hexes and spells at a group of about five kids his age. Well, four of them. There was one with dark skin and violet eyes that didn't seem…human. They weren't wizards or witches, but they were using some kind of magic. Night didn't recognize it. It certainly wasn't wizarding nor elemental and definitely not dark or chaotic. It took a moment for him to register that the girl with the dark glasses on was blind, judging from her cautious movements and the golden retriever valiantly trying to defend her. Shadow jumped into his arms and burrowed into his neck as the canine was hit by a particularly vicious spell and sent flying. Absently, he petted the feline in an attempt to comfort it, all the while watching the fight. A gawky looking boy and the other girl immediately tried to make their way over to where the blind girl was, but weren't able to make it. The dark-skinned...demon, maybe?…was attacking all the adversaries with relentless abandon, but they had stunned him with the Full-Body Bind charm (Tom wasn't kidding when he said it was a useful charm).
The one that he watched with interest was the one who seemed to be the leader of the group of teenagers. He had the appearance of someone who used to carry a lot of weight but was gradually losing it. He had blond hair and very muscular arms. And he was certainly using his muscles to his advantage. He winced as one of the black robed wizards received a nasty uppercut in the stomach and didn't get up. Night couldn't quite place it, but that one seemed…familiar? It was an odd feeling, one of uneasiness and pity. Though he began to question the pity part as the teen shot that strange white-blue magic at three of his opponents in succession and giving another a punch in the jaw. Night swore he heard the crack of bone.
Yeah. That guy really needs pity. I would not want to get that guy after me! Oddly enough, these thoughts made him want to laugh out loud.
Still, despite their efforts, it was easy to see that the wizards had the upper hand in this. They had the numbers and – if these teenagers were like him – they were tired. It was almost overkill.
"If these wizards have such a high opinion of themselves and such a degrading view of muggles, why do they outnumber them by six to one?" Lady Nyx sneered.
Moros laughed. "What do you expect from cowards behind masks? And besides, chivalry is dead."
Night looked at the man with curiosity, mixed with some insolence. "I would figure you wouldn't be against this if you were the god of trickery and all."
"This isn't trickery," Moros stated. "Hardly. Trickery requires some level of thought…and a little bit of subtlety wouldn't hurt either. This is just…" The god's lip curled in a sneer, "Pathetic."
Night was inclined to agree, though he wouldn't mention it out loud. No, he wouldn't give the guy the satisfaction. Thinking back to their introduction, he had to admit that Moros was indeed the 'smug' type. "Can't we…do something?" he asked hesitantly.
Nyx shook her head sadly. Moros was the one, however, who gave an explanation. "At the moment, it wouldn't be good for us to intervene. More could be lost than gained, if you understand."
"I don't."
"I can't go any further than that. Just think of it this way: if we interfere, bad things happen to us and bad things happen to those that we're trying to help." From what Night could see of the god's face, he was scowling. "You would think that in those arrogant idiots' amazing and incredible benevolence and righteousness that they would see that we were trying to help. But, sadly, as previously stated, they are arrogant idiots. It's why most of us rarely go to those blasted meetings any more."
"So we let them die?!"
"I said we can't do anything," Moros pointed out, a keen glitter in his blue eyes. "I didn't say you couldn't. We just need to be…subtle, about it. Catch my drift?"
Night blinked before catching on to what was being said. "So, I can do something…" He looked down at the battle before him. "But what? At the moment, the best thing I could do is to go right in there…"
"But jumping right into the fray would be unwise, wouldn't it?" interrupted Nyx.
"Right…"
"Well, why don't you use that admirable cat of yours, child?"
He looked down at the black cat in his arms with confusion evident in his now silver-hued eyes. "Shadow? What are you talking about?"
"You mean you don't know?" the white-haired goddess asked incredulously. "I thought you knew what Kardis could do."
"Kardis?" The golden tipped ears of the cat twitched in acknowledgment of the name. "Umm…back up a bit."
"What you have there is what can accurately be called an intelligent magical amplifier. An Egyptian alchemist thought he could create the ultimate weapon. He gave the 'weapon' an animal form so that if it felt misused or in case someone would want to steal it, it could defend itself. A spirit was also infused with inside it. However, it was used for many things…both good and terrible things. In the end, a wise and powerful pharaoh sealed the 'spirit of destruction' inside the Tomb of Cursed Sands. Not too long ago, unsuspecting mortals did open the tomb. They brought the only treasure here, but their finding escaped." Nyx scratched the cat in between the ears and Night could feel Shadow's – or rather, Kardis' – body vibrate from its purring. "I suspect that it will help you, if it likes you this much."
Looking at the feline quizzically – are they mad? (he decided to keep that thought to himself) – he said skeptically, "My cat. Is an amplifier. And a spirit of destruction. Are you kidding me?"
"I rarely joke, child," Nyx pronounced firmly. This was put to question by a derisive snort from her son. "Go on," she pressured. "Use the Staff of Kardis."
He raised an eyebrow. Cat and staff didn't seem to connect. Not knowing what else to do, he asked the cat, "Umm…can you turn into staff form, please?"
Yes, he felt incredibly stupid while saying this. After all, asking a cat of all things to turn into a staff wasn't exactly…normal.
"Any time now?"
"Young man, if I hear one more snide remark out of you then you are definitely going to have a talk with your father!"
He was once more not listening to the reprimanding that the night goddess was giving her son. There was a brief flash of light and a sharp crack. Eyes wide, he came to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, asking this particular cat to turn into a staff was normal. In his hands was a staff made of an odd unmarked black metal substance, neither wood nor metal and not elemental energy. It was just something different, a dark energy. Great black wings were the most striking feature of the rod, rising from the back of a small cat figurine. Emerald eyes – the same color and shade as Shadow's – winked back at him in the faint light of the waning moon. The small statuette even had the gold tipped ears and tail that the original animal had, along with its silver paws. Beneath its feet were four large brilliant jewels – ruby, citrine, emerald, and sapphire – surrounding a midnight black onyx embedded a sphere of gleaming amber. It was slightly taller than he was – though Night would never admit that he actually was short.
"Wow."
"That pretty much says it all, really."
"What did I tell you about sarcastic remarks in my presence young man…"
"I was being truthful! It does say it all. For the eloquently-challenged, at any – shutting up now."
He practiced some basic staff movements experimentally, seeing if the weapon was either too light or too heavy. But it was perfectly balance and weighted, with a faultlessness that he doubted that any weapons smith could emulate. Then, turning determinedly towards the dwindling battle below, he raised the staff and pointed it at the scene, ready.
Night knew the basics of long-distance elemental attacks and had gone over them a couple of times, though the lessons were hurried due to the forwarded date of the tournaments. Zylle had only shown him one attack as of the moment – an assault known for its accuracy.
And for the damage inflicted.
He could already feel the staff intensifying the wind magic he was using. The jewels were emitting a pulsating light as the power gathered and electricity crackled violently around his hands. All around them, the darkness was increasing, as ominous black storm clouds began to cover the sky, rolling in from out of nowhere. Thunder, loud and deep, rumbled in a throaty bass.
"Have you ever done this attack before?" Moros asked.
"Never in my life."
"Good. Then we'll have quite a show."
A sigh came from Lady Nyx. It seemed as if she was tired of yelling at her son, who was persistently ignoring her commands. Night repressed the urge to laugh. Judging from her face, it looked like Moros was going to see his father – whoever that was – anyway. But it was a fleeting thought, for he soon refocused back on the task at hand.
He then released the accumulated wind energy.
And let the lightning strike.
There were several things that had alarmed Sirius over the past few days.
First was the meeting between himself and Nathaniel Black, or Thanatos, or as he was more popularly known, Death.
Second was the news that his dear ancestor had brought with him. He said something was wrong with Harry mentally. Not insane, but something was wrong. Trauma? Coma? A concussion? He didn't know but he'd be damned if he didn't find out.
All in all, he felt that these were very suitable points to get alarmed over.
Remus just looked at him as if he were losing his mind (as if their school days at Hogwarts hadn't proved that he already had and was doing very well without it, thank you very much). Even he, Sirius Black a.k.a Padfoot of the Marauders, had to admit the story sounded farfetched. Not many people go around claiming they had met Death himself, who happened to claim that he was also their ancestor several centuries back. And add that there was an amazing resemblance, in both looks and in character. When he even went back to Grimmauld Place to ask Phineas Nigellus about it. And all the snarky portrait had to say was, "It wouldn't surprise me. Now, have you ever visited St. Mungo's mental ward? I hear they have redone the place. No more shackles and chains! Maybe you should think of a making a trip there…and stay for a couple of years."
Needless to say, Sirius preferred Thanatos to Phineas.
Hmm…maybe I am going insane…
Well, he had come off the streets after a bit of a scuffle with a few Death Eaters. Obviously, they were newbies. He doubted that Lord Voldemort would bother sending his best teams out to a muggle neighborhood so close to the Ministry's temporary headquarters and cause destruction there. While Sirius had to admit that the psychotic dark wizard was probably not in the best state of mind a person should be in, he had to concede that Voldemort rarely did anything stupid. Was it a plot to make the Ministry feel secure? It was possible, considering how quickly Fudge had called up the Daily Prophet.
It was at these times that Sirius considered becoming an anarchist. I bet that a majority of the wizarding public doesn't even know about what the Ministry has hidden away. The Department of Mysteries was proof enough. Sirius had only been in there once and was pushed out as soon as he ventured in "beyond authorization". But he had seen the floating brains. Not a pleasant sight. Though what those brains were for were anyone's guess.
And here he was now, stealing into the closed off area while the Ministry was busy. Most of the time was spent repairing what damage had been done to the establishment from the Phantom Elemental attack, but with the capture of those inept Death Eaters, it was now deserted. A perfect opportunity. He was coming on his own, though. Dumbledore had mentioned a brief interest in what the Department of Mysteries held before the topic was turned again to rising Death Eater activity. No, he was doing this on his own. A private investigation, if you will.
It was easy to get past the main floors. Aurors were given special permission practically everywhere they went. In practically no time at all, he was inside the Department of Mysteries. It was hard not to get lost in the labyrinth style corridors, but he trusted his instincts. They had guided him through many things and out of a lot of binds before. Though even he had to confess that his instincts largely called for either the blowing up or the burning of whatever stood in his way. Zacharias Orville learned that fact the hard way when he was training in Auror training school. Sirius was amazed he hadn't gotten suspended for setting his teacher on fire with a well-place curse to get out of simulation exercise.
He did have to put up with James calling him "Pyro Padfoot" the entire time.
But other than that, his instincts never failed him.
Crap. Sirius cringed as he noticed which room he was in. The Veil Room. He wondered how deep in thought he must have been not to notice that he was standing right in front of the dreaded archway. The ragged veil, shadowed and gray from time and age, moved in a non-existent wind. There were whispers calling out to him from behind it, though he knew that if looked behind the archway he would find no one. According to a few papers that he had "borrowed" from an Unspeakable, the Ministry assumed the archway was a portal into the land of the dead. He had scoffed at this before. But now…considering his recent encounter with the god of death on top of everything…he might be inclined to go along with the theory. Shivering slightly, he made to move onto the next room, his back facing the archway as he was leaving.
"No, you were right. This archway does not lead to the land of the dead. Rather, it leads to an area in between the worlds. If anyone fell in, they'd be trapped in what could be called a state I think you mortals call 'suspended animation'."
He turned abruptly at the sound of the voice, wand held ready. A female voice, with a strange lilt and clear as crystal. Sirius attempted to keep it steady, though, when he saw whom it was pointing at.
She raised a dark eyebrow, "Really, is that necessary?" Her dark blue eyes, flecked with gold and silver, were fixed directly on him with a piercing stare. She was shorter than he was by a few inches, which was impressive considering how tall he himself was. Her braided hair was odd, a mixture of dark brown and black, highlighted by streaks of white with strange lily-like flowers threaded among the strands. She stood leaning against the archway's stones, looking much like a queen in a black kimono embroidered with silver flowers much like the ones in her hair. She gave him an understanding smirk. "I mean, is that anyway to treat your aunt?"
"Aunt?" he said disbelievingly.
"Aunt," she repeated firmly. "If I'm not mistaken, you met my dear brother just the other day. I hope Nat didn't shock you too much." She gave him an inquiring look after she saw his shocked face. "I see that he did." An exasperated sigh escaped her lips. "Figures. He's always like that. Sorry if he caused any trouble."
It was now Sirius' turn to raise an eyebrow. Death? Mischievous? "You're related to Nathani – I mean, Thanatos?"
"He prefers to call himself 'Nat'," the woman replied. "I'm his sister, Melania."
His blue eyes narrowed. "So, you're like him?"
"Yes, I'm immortal. I'm the goddess of darkness."
Just his luck. Here was the goddess of darkness. And she was his aunt. Amazing. "And what do you want?" he asked suspiciously.
"To tell you to stop searching for your godson."
"What?!"
"I assure you that it is in his best interests."
"What are you implying?" he ground out. "Are you saying you'd hurt him if I continue?"
"Hardly."
"Then what?"
"You'll be putting him in danger and that is something I can't allow," Melania countered, her eyes equally narrowed.
"You can't allow?!" Sirius roared. "Considering how much the dark has taken from him?!" The chamber amplified his allegation to a harsh echo that rang through the shadows. The voices behind the veil grew in intensity and number, the veil fluttering even more in that unknown wind. The goddess – Melania – looked furious, clenched hands shaking at her sides, white at the knuckles, and her nails drawing blood – black in the dim light - from where they were obviously cutting through her palms.
"Silence!" She drew up to her full height, imposing and intimidating. "I am hardly defending Voldemort, child! He is as much of my enemy as he is to you! You don't know everything that the blasted demon has done! Do not accuse me of actions that I have no part in!"
"Then tell me why!"
"How can I tell you, when the one who is the cause of this mess is pulling the strings on both ends?" she replied in a low dangerous voice. "I am keeping him safe by keeping him away from the Order and the Death Eaters, while he is recovering from the trauma and cruelty that you unknowingly made him go through. And I am keeping you safe by not telling you everything at the moment."
"You won't stop me."
"I know. I expected as much. You're just too much like Nat to do anything else. But I have given you a warning." With that and a small whirlwind, Melania vanished. She did, however, leave him a message. "Be careful." Going to where the goddess was standing before, he stooped to the ground.
He looked at the strange flower that shone soft silver in the dusky atrium.
***
Hey, people! Sorry, 'bout the long delay. The reasons for it are listed in my profile. I apologize for it, but I do have to keep up with my schoolwork. And I know that math midterm is going to kill me. I'm also expecting a chemistry one, too. Combine that with an in-depth research project into Aldous Huxley and his novel, Brave New World and I'm going to be pretty busy. But I'll try to update as much as I can.
Hopefully, this chapter makes up for it.
As you probably know, FF.Net is not allowing for authors to post chapters that do not have story content. This unfortunately includes my review pages. And I can't add review responses on at the end of the chapter due to my horrible dial-up connection (it's hard enough to upload regular chapters). So, if you have any questions just e-mail me and I'll get back to you ask quickly as I can.
By the way, I did start up a new fic that just came into my head that I needed to take down. You can go see if you want to. I won't be concentrating on that as much as the Elemental series though. But if you do decide to read it, I hope you like it.
~Raven Dragonclaw
In this chapter: "Shadows of Silver"· Dudley and Lirenas discuss the future.
· Dudley and friends at school.
· The Death Eaters pay a visit to one Vernon Dursley at St. Claire's Mental Institution.
· Dudley encounters demons and a grim.
· The Death Eaters attack the group.
· An appearance by Harry and Kardis' power is revealed.
· Melania visits Sirius about what Thanatos spoke about.
In the next chapter: "The Flames of Battle"· A Phantom Elemental attack close to Hogsmeade causes alarm.
· Zylle's concern for Harry in the fight and Lavinia's suspicions.
· The Semi-Finals
1. Mordecai Freely vs. Bran Ravencroft
2. Simeon Bradley vs. Nuitari Hawking
· Sirius manages to find Grey Tower. Mirai goes to investigate. A fight ensues.
· The finalists are announced.
TEASER! Chapter 33 is the last round of the tournament: "The Black Dragon"!