Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except plotlines, clans and their members, and Grey Tower.
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Chapter 32: The Flames of Battle
If he weren't using silver sight at the time, then no doubt he would have been blinded.
Thirteen bolts of lightning crashed down onto the street, the following thunder nearly knocking him off his feet. But he kept a firm hold onto Kardis, not letting go, and let the attack takes its effect. Nyx and Moros beside him seemed expectant and were observing what he was doing with the careful attention of judges.
Zylle didn't invent the Lightning Strike. Neither did her father, whose specialty were lightning attacks. It was an old attack of the family's, created by one of the earliest Hawkings, soon after the establishment of Grey Tower. The attack was originally meant to kill, but it was modified over the years to cause more damage than to take life. Though it had the potential to. Multiple enemies could be taken out easily with it. Usually, the normal amount of lightning bolts was six or seven. But thirteen was unheard of.
He knew the risks of using it. But it was an emergency. And he hadn't quite mastered multiple attacks yet: only able to take out at most ten enemies. No, he was in the right.
"Not bad for a first timer," Moros' voice spoke. "Impressive."
When the dust from the force of the attack cleared, thirteen craters were sunk deep into the black of the road. Some of the crater's edges had even melted, white smoke rising and twisting into the air. The wizards were sprawled across the scene awkwardly, unconscious. The five that were under attack were fine. Four of them (not the blind girl) and the dog were rubbing at their eyes, no doubt because of the light. He winced in guilt. He hadn't meant it to turn out that strong.
Nyx nodded at him, gesturing him to move away from their position on the roof. He could only assume he was being sent home. After all, the goddess' eyes had returned to their ancient benign brown and Moros' eyes were now a frosty deep blue, flecked like the Lady's.
"Harry!"
Night looked back at the group, expecting that one of the boys had gotten hurt in the fight. But no. The large one…the leader…was looking straight at him, something resembling a mixture of hope and happiness and a dash of disbelief shining in them. The other four were gazing up at him as well, incredulity shown plainly on three faces, and indifference on the dark-skinned one.
No. He was the one being called Harry.
But before he could look into this further, he found himself back in his bed at 14 Zephyrus Court. The staff of Kardis had morphed back into the cat Shadow, who was now stretching languidly and moving back to its previous position at the foot of his bed. More precisely on his feet.
An indignant hoot and a nip on the ear effectively knocked him out of his surprise daze. Hedwig evidently wasn't very pleased with his sudden disappearance. Reaching out and absentmindedly stroking her feathers affectionately, he murmured, "It's been an odd night, Hedwig…a very odd night."
Madame Rosmerta was used to cold chilly mornings, but never this early in the month of September. Usually the summer heat hung around until at most Halloween. Just the other day, she had gone out wearing the thin summer robes most wizards used during the season.
Therefore it was definitely odd that today she was wearing winter robes with her woolen cloak and fur gloves. As she stood outside the Three Broomsticks, she noticed the window had frozen. In some places it was beginning to crack. This wasn't unexpected: she had to blast the door open because both the door and hinges had frozen.
To her relief, the pub had not taken as much harm from the bitter cold than some other stores. Caleb Dervish was complaining loudly of the many items in his store that had frozen and suffered irreplaceable damage. The proprietors of Honeydukes were in shock: The Pepper-Imp candies failed to work. All that escaped from the person's nose or mouth if they ate them was not fire, but rather just steam. All over the square, shopkeepers were exchanging stories of how unnatural this cold was and how it affected them. Some were blatant exaggerations, but she could see why the postmaster had sent off almost all the owls down south. A few had to be sent to Hogwarts because they were so near death. She saw it herself, the postal workers mounting brooms, each of them with a fluffy feathery mass wrapped in blankets, flying towards the castle. If the post office had suffered, then the school must not have fared much better. Rubeus Hagrid will have his hands full.
Or, rather, Pauline Grubbly-Plank. Rubeus Hagrid still had not returned from whatever trip he had taken. She assumed it was a trip. Rosmerta had known Hagrid for years. Sure, he could disappear for a couple of days, but months? It had to be a trip.
Her attention turned when a seamstress from Gladrag's mentioned notifying the Ministry for help. She scowled, as did a great many of the shopkeepers. The Ministry, ever since the Sirius Black incident years ago, was not popular among the merchants. The dementors, whose presence was never wanted, cost them galleons of business. Not to mention, they were proved useless. Sirius Black had escaped again.
But it was nice to hear that he was in fact, innocent. She hadn't believed that Sirius Black of all people would turn dark, even if his otherwise unpleasant family showed all the signs of going there. It was unfortunate that the poor Potter boy, with all that he had been through, wasn't in the care of someone who cared for him. Perhaps he would smile a bit more. Almost everyone here in the town had noticed that Harry Potter rarely ever looked truly happy. Sure, he had a smile when he was with his friends and you could tell he liked to be with them, but the smile never reached those green eyes of his. It was a pity.
Rosmerta raised her wand and cast a simple temperature spell. Her eyes widened in alarm as she looked at the number. In the ten minutes she had been outside her store, the temperature had dropped fifteen degrees. But her attention was distracted as a small snowflake landed on her nose. Looking up in alarm, snow began to come down. It wasn't the slow normal pace of snow. No, it just piled down on them. In just a matter of seconds, she was standing in an inch of snow. Several people ran inside, claiming the Ministry had to be called.
And the snow was fast rising.
"Excuse me," a quiet voice rasped. She jumped in alarm. That man, Raistlin Majere, the new professor, never failed to scare her when he showed up in Hogsmeade. He came infrequently for a quick drink, rarely saying anything. But his black robes and strange yellow eyes always unnerved her. "I can assume your tavern is closed if you're standing out here," he snapped.
Rosmerta couldn't really give an answer other than glancing up at the gray sky, nearly obscured by fluffy white flakes.
"I see," the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor replied cryptically. He pointed his wand towards the rooftop of Honeydukes' candy store and muttered a spell under his breath. Out of his wand shot an impressive blast of pale blue light. She blinked. What was that for?
The snow stopped.
A person suddenly appeared on the candy store's roof and fell ignobly into a snowdrift.
"Elementals," Majere scoffed in that low rasp. "Some of them are just plain imbeciles." He murmured something else, but she really couldn't catch it. But she was certain he had said: "moving in", "idiotic weakling", and "Lunitari". As well as several words that she assumed were some form of insults, in a different language.
It was at that moment the Ministry had decided to show its face. Some hotshot official ran up to her, "What happened here, ma'am?" Rosmerta chose not to answer. They had come when the danger was over. And these were the people who were supposed to protect them?!
As she strode haughtily back into her shop (not saying a word to the official), its own roof already piled up with white, she heard Professor Majere say, "I've dealt with the problem. Something I'm sure that you inept excuses for wizards could ever do."
"I'm surprised," Lavinia Coulter remarked. "Mirai isn't here."
Jonathan gave the woman with the glacier blue eyes a skeptic's glance. "I would figure you to enjoy not being in her presence," he teased, in his serious fashion. It was always hard to tell with Jonathan Smythe. It was at these times that Zylle figured that Jonathan only put his emotions in his incredible works of art and not towards people. But there was no denying that he was a skilled earth elemental. She had faced her own semi-final match against him and he blocked nearly every one of her assaults. In the end, she had to resort to an all out attack that could have mortally injured the other man easily. To his luck and slightly to Zylle's indignation, he had only broken a few bones. Yes, Jonathan Smythe was not one to pick a fight with.
Though the slight animosity between Lavinia and Mirai might have also stemmed from the semi-finals. That match could have gone either way. Mirai had speed, battle experience, and the sheer power of a young vampire with exceptional training. Lavinia possessed the determination, cunning, and ambition to surpass all others and prove to be the best. It was this clash of goals that made that duel one that will stick in the memories of many a spectator elemental. Although, it must be conceded that they rarely agreed on anything to begin with. Their personalities also clashed, much like their elements: Mirai's fire to Lavinia's water.
Despite that, they tried to get along and accept that the other, no matter what, was not going to get any more serious/cheerful.
"You know how we sensed the wards being pushed at?" Zylle asked.
"Of course," Jonathan replied stoically. "We held off all the matches until six in the evening because of the disturbance." Whatever it was that was trying to get through, it had put all elementals on the alert. Defending against a Phantom attack was much more important than the continuation of an easily re-scheduled fight.
"Right," she responded. "She thinks she may have found out what it was."
Lavinia sighed before leaning back in her chair, her shoulder-length light brown hair as impeccably styled as always. Zylle always wondered how the woman did that: her own dark brown hair never stayed in one hairstyle for the entire day. Night, she smiled affectionately as she thought of him, had jokingly said that she should cut her hair short like his. It would be messy, but not that bad. At the time, she was caught between being amused and insulted.
It was an easy choice for her mother: she was amused. Though they did enjoy fresh-baked brownies afterward. Hans' chocolate trees gave better chocolate than the generic store type.
"You know, Zylle," Jonathan asked, interrupting her musings, "I'm very surprised you came to the match as armed as you are. I expect it always from Lavinia-"
"I always carry a weapon," was the snide remark from the chemistry professor.
"Yes, right. But Zylle doesn't."
"True."
Zylle sighed. There was no getting around those two. She desperately needed Mirai there to add some comic relief to the group. "I wanted to be prepared for anything while we were searching," she answered. "The other two nodded understandingly before returning to their solemn silence. The wind elemental always wondered how they did that. Or stand it. She supposed growing up with Sarah as her mother and Hans acting much like the uncle she never had was the cause of her discomfort with sober quiet.
Idly, her hand brushed the cold metal of the gun holstered on her belt. It wasn't a normal gun. By far, no. In the seventeenth century, some elementals decided to make use of the muggle gun and try to combine elemental magic with them. It wasn't very successful, these prototypes. Especially ones with fire, as they had a habit of exploding. Though this did lead to the invention of the water gun (a muggle relative had been watching the said water elemental). In the late 1800s, Maurice Laurant pioneered the way for a new weapon. It was similar to a gun, but the metal and parts of the firearm was infused with elemental energy. An elemental was able to shoot what could only be described as a 'bullet' of elemental energy at their opponent. No need to charge up or load. You just needed elemental magic and it was ready to go.
Though it was possible to shoot muggle bullets as well. One could never know when you'd actually need the things.
On her left side was the Laurant X-314, the newest and best model on the market, able to shoot a pea that was perched on a needle from fifty-feet away. Though she doubted she would ever want to shoot a pea, much less at a distance of fifty feet, it was comforting to know that the weapon had a great range and accuracy. Zylle was planning on giving the second one she had bought to Night and hopefully train him in it. Even if not many elementals taught their children the art of marksmanship, she felt it would be useful for her son. The Cirrus Revolver '00 was on her right, still as reliable as it was when her father had used in the Phantom Wars.
Currently, her son was talking to Bran Ravencroft. Both looked exceedingly nervous. Trina Smythe, the polar opposite of her father (and doing much better), was talking animatedly to the other two from a seat behind them, in the spectator stands. Evidently, she was trying to relax them. Which did ease her mind, for Night had seemed pretty nervous in the morning. Actually, he looked to welcome the delayed match. He even took a small nap. Lack of sleep, maybe?
Turning to Jonathan, she remarked, "I was very surprised that Triana lost, Jon." It had been bugging her for quite a while. A well-trained earth elemental such as Triana 'Trina' Smythe should not have lost to a mere average wind elemental such as Simeon Bradley.
"As was I," Jonathan ground out. "Her technique was perfect, yet Bradley didn't go down. That made no sense."
"I know for a fact," Zylle put in, "that he could not have spent as much time in the air as he had. Flying is difficult for even the best wind elementals. I myself have some slight trouble."
Lavinia smirked. "And yet your son is a natural. Which is pretty impressive. But make no mistake: Triana Smythe should have defeated Simeon Bradley in less than two minutes in that last match."
"What are you saying?" queried Jonathan.
"Think about it. He's able to fly for long periods of time, which we know that someone at his level shouldn't be able to stand without depleting all their energy. He's able to execute attacks that I'm certain a dunderhead like he is couldn't do, especially since I'm very sure that he hadn't begun seriously training until the week before the tournament. Lastly, his attitude is more arrogant than its usual unbearable level."
"So you think…" Zylle murmured, fearing what the water elemental was implying.
"Yes, I believe an amplifier is at work here. The next match will tell us if this is true." Lavinia smirked.
"Night had better win this one then. I don't want some fake to make it to the finals," Jonathan replied. "Especially a fake that cheated to beat my daughter."
"You're sure that he's using an amplifier?" she questioned. Zylle had to be sure. She could be putting her son in danger. Then again, she was also risking favoritism on checking for one when there was just an assumption of an amplifier's possession. No, Night would have to face Bradley, with or without amplifier. Her hands were tied by the system. We'll check afterward. I know Night is going to win, even if Bradley's cheating.
"As sure as I'm sure that you hate dogs."
Zylle shivered. She hated dogs. Especially big ones.
"You'll do fine!" Trina insisted. Half her tone was cheerful, the other exasperated. Though Night couldn't blame her at all. No doubt their mutual anxiety and nervousness was irritating to the girl. She sat right behind them, in the spectator's boxes. Trina looked much better than she had the other day. The small band-aid plastered on her head gave the illusion that she only took a small fall. "I know at least one of you will make it to the finals!"
Night managed a small smile for her. The encouragement was slightly heartening.
Slightly.
Zylle had said the same thing to him before. Though that was several hours ago. A disturbance around the Grey Tower wards postponed all matches until later in the evening. Looking with his green eyes, colored gray by contact lenses, he noticed that the leader's box was missing a familiar redhead. It was a shame, for the vampire's easy-going merry nature was something he had gotten used to during the fights.
Speaking of the leader's, Professor Coulter looked especially grim. Which in itself was saying something. Jonathan Smythe was sitting also seemed to be on edge. As was his mother, whose gray eyes betrayed her. Night gave her an inquiring look. She merely shook her head and looked intently at Simeon Bradley.
It was his luck to face the git in the second match.
Though Zylle was worried.
All odds aside, he should easily defeat Simeon. Simeon may have had the advantage of living in Grey Tower his entire life, but he didn't have the trainers that he had. He, Nuitari Hawking, had been trained by the very best of the best: Hans Claybourne, Lavinia Coulter, Sarah Vartar-Hawking, and Zylle Hawking.
Heaven be damned if he was going to fail them.
Besides, someone needed to put Bradley in his place. Badly.
The sharp sound of shattering crystal pierced through the chatter of the noisy arena, effectively silencing everyone. Much like everyone else in the underground stadium, Night turned instinctively towards the clan leaders, on alert.
But there didn't seem to be any real problem. Professor Coulter had just smashed a large crystal icicle at the ground. Evidently, she had done this to shut everyone up. Nevertheless, it was effective. And she looked smug about this. Jonathan and Zylle were giving the water elemental exasperated glares, but didn't comment.
"We apologize for the delay," Zylle began, her calm voice easing his nerves somewhat. "As you probably have heard, there was a disturbance with our wards. It is been taken care of." Whispers swept through the room like an errant breeze before they quieted down again. "Now we will begin the tournament's semi-final matches." Loud cheering, kept in by the audience for many hours, was let loose.
"So, will Bran Ravencroft and Mordecai Freely please step into the ring for the first match?"
Bran stood up stiffly and left the box before anyone could say anything.
"Anxious?" Trina asked, somewhat needlessly.
"Of course."
"He's at a disadvantage. A big one."
Both fighters stood facing each other in the ring. One in blue and white, the other in red and black. Their faces were set, Mordecai's showing blatant determination while Bran's appeared emotionless and apathetic. Bran's philosophy: your enemy will have a much harder time if they can't see what you're thinking.
"Let the match begin!"
A quick side-step brought Mordecai out of the way of a fireball lobbed in his direction. He was clearly expecting it, but he didn't foresee Bran moving to attack from the other side. It was sheer luck – and a loud shout from a person who disliked the fire elemental a great deal in the audience – that enabled him to escape what would have been a crippling blow, made worse with the added fire energy. Bran's face showed momentary aggravation before returning to its normal indifferent expression.
The two began to circle each other, neither making a move, trying to anticipate the others movements. This continued for a good ten minutes. Mordecai then charged forward with a punch, which Bran made to dodge.
But it was a fake-out.
Mordecai swiftly brought up his left fist, catching Bran painfully in the jaw. The water elemental then tried to execute a kick to the redhead's stomach, one with enough power to knock him out, but Bran managed somehow to evade the attack with a flip over his opponent. As he flipped over Mordecai, Bran used the move's element of surprise to grab the other's shoulders. With the accelerated momentum, he somersaulted Mordecai over his head as he landed.
Mordecai was slammed hard into the ground, but soon recovered, resuming a more defensive stance. Apparently, he wasn't expecting Bran to pull off that maneuver and was now watching his adversary with more caution. Though this was not surprising to Night: Bran tended to combine strategy with unexpected tactics, as to throw his enemy off.
It was at that moment that Mordecai formed his water elemental sword. Bran formed his flame broadsword as well, expecting a move to blade weaponry.
But Mordecai didn't attack with his sword. A jet of water was fired at Bran, weak and easily countered.
Bran missed the satisfied smirk that graced the water elemental's face.
The ring was soon shrouded in a heavy white steam as the water made contact with the fire.
All vision of what was occurring inside the ring was obscured, but the white fog. The only sign that there was still fighting going on inside the ring was the ringing of clashing swords and the flashes of light from elemental metal.
It would have continued this way for a while if it not been for several events. There was a large blasting sound as well as a scream of pain. Then the steam hadn't been rolled out by a giant wave of water. All focused on one person.
A thudding sound and a pained moan accompanied Bran's impact against the shields and then subsequent fall to the ground.
This was it.
No one could've gotten up from that.
Night could see, even from here, that Mordecai was beginning to relax, anticipating the end. If a person could relax with an arm that looked as if it had been plunged into hot oil. The skin was completely black and some pieces seemed to be peeling and flaking. His water sword was gone. He wouldn't be able to use that arm now. And that was his sword arm.
A murmur went through the crowd, as well as some cheers, as Bran staggered onto his feet, dripping with water and coughing, but still standing. He tried to walk back to the ring, but collapsed halfway there. An assault like that was probably equal to being hit by a bulldozer head on.
"The winner of the first semi-final match is Mordecai Freely," Zylle's voice proclaimed. But it was hardly heard over the roar of the crowd. They were like wild animals, several of them actually screaming in enjoyment. He knew most were only applauding a good fight, but there were quite a few that enjoyed the sight of seeing Bran get mangled. Control. Control. Blasting the crowd won't help Bran. It won't. It won't. He repeated this mantra over and over in his head, all the while seeing red. As he did this, a few of the medics went over to the fallen fire elemental and carried him back to the medical station for healing. Bran's eyes were still open, yet they looked unfocused and hazy.
""Will Simeon Bradley and Nuitari Hawking please step into the ring for the second semi-final match?"
It didn't take much for him to notice the underlying worry that Zylle's voice contained when she called him to the ring. He'd have to be on his guard. His anger would help him through the next match. That was a given. But rage could cloud his judgment. It would be difficult: keeping a cool head while seething.
"Good luck," encouraged Trina, but her stricken face made the otherwise friendly statement lose its heart. "I'm going to check on Bran, okay?"
Night nodded understandingly. "Good. Tell me how he's doing when the match is over."
"Right. Kick his sorry arse."
Mordecai Freely passed him as he was walking into the ring, the other in the direction of the medical staff. The water elemental avoided his eyes, concentrating on his feet. Was he feeling…guilt? Well, he did have something to do with Bran's injuries. Though Bran also is partly to blame. He knew that the calm exterior his redheaded friend possessed hid a very wide stubborn streak. Most fighters would've surrendered to their injuries after that tidal wave attack, not push their bodies beyond their limits to continue the fight. Worst yet, Bran had been fighting on a severe disadvantage.
Either way, Bran had done some damage, judging from the way Mordecai was wincing as he cradled his blackened right arm. It would take a lot more than the usual healing spell to restore the limb back to its previous condition.
Simeon stood already in the ring, a large smile on his face, malicious eyes dancing. "Are you ready, Hawking, to be defeated much like your little friend there?"
Eyes narrowed, Night replied, "I'm not going to be defeated, Bradley. I'm going to win." He could feel his wind elemental magic around him, charged and ready. As well as the other four elements close behind it.
The other boy merely laughed. "Just because you're a Hawking doesn't mean you'll win!" He then pulled a face of mock-shock. "Oh, right! You're not really a Hawking, are you?"
Don't pay attention. He's riling you up. Focus energy on the match…focus energy on the match…focus energy on tearing him limb from limb…no! Okay! New strategy! Happy thoughts…happy thoughts…that doesn't work! He guessed that a vision of Bradley getting put in his place (which probably wouldn't be called 'a place' because it was so low) was a happy thought.
"Let the match begin!"
Both of them summoned wind elemental swords. But the difference between them couldn't be clearer. The two that Night held were light and graceful in the Japanese style, perfect for quick attacks and assaults. Simeon's was one large sword, with a huge and heavy blade. The way its owner handled it was like one would use an unwieldy axe. To his trained eye, Night could see that several areas of the blade were slightly dull.
At the same time, they went forward for the charge. Simeon immediately brought his sword down in a vertical slice, but Night stopped it by crossing his swords and catching the blade. The other wind elemental added more force to slice, using his weight –which was considerably much more than Night's – to do it. An ugly grin distorted his face, which disgusted the dark-haired Hawking even further. "Are you scared, Hawking?" Simeon mocked.
^^^^^^^^^^
A boy, with pale hair and cold gray eyes, smirked at him. Next to him stood an imposing man with black hair slicked with grease and a prominent aquiline nose, dark eyes like voids and a sneer gracing his sallow face. The younger of the two held up a wand, confident and ready. "Scared, Potter?"
He felt his own mouth form the defiant words of, "You wish."
^^^^^^^^^^
Night didn't realize he had uttered the same words. With new resolve, he threw Simeon back, using his wind energy to propel his adversary further. He then went forward before the other could effectively guard for a double slice, once deep across the chest and the other catching Simeon on his right shoulder.
The heavy blade disappeared as Simeon let go of it to grasp his shoulder, howling in pain, his white battle shirt steadily turning red.
He had no idea why, but his instincts were screaming at him. It was an odd sense of either running for cover…or taking Simeon out now. Muggle magic: adrenaline. But why…Adrenaline rarely used in magic-users since the magic they were proficient in normally took over and accomplished the same. Which was why muggles were much better at handling it than others. But he was certain, his intuition was trying to warn him – and prepare him.
A circle of dust began to rise around Simeon's feet, whirling around him, widening and quickening in speed. A dull roar sounded in his ears, growing louder. Gray eyes widened. Barely thinking and letting the adrenaline work, he stabbed his swords into the ground and held on to them tightly.
He felt his feet be lifted off the ground as the tornado formed in full force: Simeon in the peaceful center, he himself in the middle of buffeting winds. The swords anchored him down, but he because of that, attack was impossible. He tried to squint through the wind, but the gusts were strong enough to blow away his contact lenses. Night blinked helplessly as everything became blurry and indistinct, worsened by the tempestuous squalls.
Vivid green. He was fighting what could be accurately be called, "half-blind". How am I going to get out of this if I can see what he's doing? His opponent shouldn't have that much power, but it was possible that the earlier attack – and the letting of blood – managed to increase his wind elemental power.
Trouble?…Use silver sight then…
Moros had said that. When he couldn't see last night…when he didn't have his glasses or contacts!
Okay, he prepared himself, closing his eyes. His teeth were gritted in the effort of both holding on and thinking. Clearly, clearly, clearly. Opening his eyes again, he saw the familiar clarity edging into the fringes of his vision. Clearly, clearly, clearly. Gradually, everything was clear and unearthly silver eyes peered through the winds at Simeon.
He appeared to have recovered and was now standing confidently in the middle of the storm, not moving, with a satisfied smirk. Which only served to piss the nearly airborne Night even more.
Zylle had done this to him a couple of times, to help him improve on flying. Though, there was one training session when he got frustrated with actual combat and did the same as Simeon was doing now. But she hadn't panicked. Instead, she…did something and very efficiently knocked him out for a good two hours. And she wasn't exactly trying. Later - after he regained consciousness, was given chocolate, and Gran reprimanded them heavily – she explained that there was an attack to defeat another wind elemental if such a situation arose. But it could be dangerous to the other.
Well, it wasn't as if he actually liked Simeon. Or cared a great deal for his well being in general. Truth be told, Night could barely tolerate his existence.
He allowed for his own wind energy to form around him, another cyclone in the ring. Now that he was within his own storm, he pulled out his swords and floated serenely in the air, silver eyes narrowed and focused on the surprised Simeon.
Find where the two winds collide and slice through it with a wind slice from your sword. Seemingly simple, but it wasn't. It required a lot of concentration to actually "see" where the winds met.
Thankfully, silver sight was making it much easier for him. The flashes of light that probably wouldn't have seen using his normal vision were hard to miss with his enhanced eyes. Leaving everything to fate, he slashed his sword. The wind from the attack struck the flash of light dead on.
Simeon's tornado dissipated as the force of wind tore straight through it. The other was thrown forcefully back out of the ring as the energy engulfed him. It even hit the shield, causing it to shudder and in some places, actually crack.
With some slight nervousness, he cancelled his own cyclone and landed back on the ring floor. Did I do it right? Zylle's was considerably stronger.
"The winner of the second semi-final match is Nuitari Hawking!" Night let a shy grin grace his face as the spectators cheered for him. He did have to admit that beating Simeon felt good. Much like a stress-reliever. From the small medical station he could see Trina waving excitedly at him, jumping up and down in happiness. Bran, propped up in a seat and holding an ice pack to his head with a bandaged hand gave him a weak-thumbs up. It was weak because the finger was plastered to a splint.
Bending down, he picked up two small lenses, nearly invisible on the ring floor. I'm lucky. Closing his eyes, he let his eyes return to their natural emerald green. He then put in the gray contacts once more, not liking the blurry edges to everything he saw.
"Cheater!" He turned around to see the other wind elemental shakily rising to his feet, swaying, as he couldn't find a steady balance. "You had to have cheated! You couldn't have beaten me!"
Simeon's screeches silenced the previous ovation. Cheating was not an accusation looked lightly upon. History had proven that those leaders who had cheated their way to the top proved to be terrible for their clans. One such case was in the Seijaku-Shinrin Tigers: a man had slipped weakening potions into all the meals of his opponents so when he faced them, he could win easily. He did get the title of Black Tiger, but during a minor skirmish with a foreign clan he ran from battle. Only to return days later when it was over.
Obviously, he was kicked out. But that was an entirely different story.
"I didn't cheat," he said hotly to the other, glaring at him with narrowed gray eyes. He added, muttering under his breath, "Like I would even need to cheat to beat you."
Zylle smirked slightly at this, but refrained from laughing. "On what grounds?"
"He had to have cheated! I'm stronger than he is!"
Jonathan put in, "And how exactly are you stronger than he is? After all, the tournaments aren't a show of brute strength." Already, he could see a dangerous glint in the man's brown eyes. Not unlike Trina when she got especially annoyed with something.
Simeon was at a loss for words. "I – I just am! He could not have possibly won!" The two boys leered at each other, showing equal dislike.
"Young man," Lavinia said coldly, a chilling but satisfied gleam in her light blue eyes. "Since when did you get your ear pierced? The gem does have a striking resemblance to a wind crystal." She pointed to the small gem in Simeon's ear, which was rather innocent looking at first glance.
At first glance. A second look showed it to be a wind elemental crystal, shining a dull yellow. Amplifier.
"You are disqualified," Zylle pronounced, a pleased tone in her voice. "And your last opponent will take your place in the leader standings." Jonathan Smythe, for a first, wore a wide grin on his face.
It was a quaint little town really. Even if he couldn't find a single soul around. Which in itself was odd. If he weren't in the possession of the knowledge that this – this community not far from London – was actually the main center of elementals, he would think this would be a muggle neighborhood. Not that he had anything against muggles. Far from it. But elementals were magic users, weren't they? Wouldn't they be like wizards? Hidden away from non-magical society? Clearly, the elementals preferred the muggles to wizards. A thrilling thought for one of the pureblood fanatic families: a secret sect of magic users who spurned wizarding society and lived among the muggles. Neither Thanatos nor Melania had given him much information to the reason for this. Obviously, it happened in the past.
Whatever it was, the elementals definitely did not want to be in contact with wizarding society. Almost all attempts to reach them were futile. There had been a response to something a muggle-born witch in the Department of Magical Cooperation had sent: something called "e-mail". He really didn't know the details as to how the woman did it. But whatever it was, it did get through to them somehow. The reply was short, to the point, and contained quite a bit of foul language. When it was read back, Dumbledore had to bite down an amused grin while Fudge was clearly fuming. The poor girl who was given the task was red-faced from embarrassment. No doubt calling her boss a "pinstriped spineless turkey that couldn't see the filth in his own administration even if he was rubbing his nose in it". And was one of the tamer euphemisms of the ever-exalted Minister of Magic. And one of the few that didn't contain explicit profanity.
Auror extraordinaire, former convict, and apparent descendant of Death. What a title. Sirius Black walked down what he could only assume was a shopping area, much like Diagon Alley was…used to be. Sky Lane. At first, the signs were subtle: he had nearly succumbed to the enchantment around the town's borders. Shielding charms, to keep intruders out. Maybe some divinity was helping, for he managed to get through…albeit not without some difficulty. It was here that he began to see telltale signs of magic. The streetlights were beginning to light up, colored gases and sparks contained within glass globes. A store innocuously named "Herbs and Spices" was selling mandrake root and essence of belladonna…as well as a fresh bundle of cilantro and a sale on oregano. Delicate glass and porcelain figurines shined in the setting sun's light, too perfect to be made by mere mortal human hands. He paused for a bit, his blue eyes lingering five magnificent statues proudly displayed. A fierce chimera, its eyes narrowed in a leer, growled at him, its lips pulled back showing a magnificent set of teeth. A unicorn, wise and contemplative, stared back at him with a reflective look. A falcon, wings spread wide, was captured brilliantly in flight, a silent cry escaping its predatory beak. Crouching in a waiting stance, Sirius could have sworn the tiger figurine was considering him for dinner. Lastly a dragon roaring, sharp claws extended and wings spread into the air.
There seemed to be room for a sixth. But there were only five.
"I knew there was a disturbance. But I didn't think a mere wizard could get through the wards we had set up."
Sirius' hand immediately connected with his wand and turned to face the person who had spoken, red robes billowing with his movements. Standing in the light of a golden streetlight, he scrutinized the woman who had spoken. He was in elemental territory – namely the home ground of a group of people who disliked his kind – and he wasn't going to drop his guard.
Golden highlights from the lamp gleamed off of wavy crimson hair. For a moment, he was fiercely reminded of Lily, the deceased wife of his departed best friend. But no, this woman's locks were a darker red. It was the deep scarlet of blood, not the flame red that Lily Evans-Potter had. She wore an odd outfit: black knee-highs with tight beige khakis. What he recognized as gauntlets encased the arms that were sheathed by her burgundy shirt, the high collar stark against the deathly pale skin. A faded black cloak, which only went up to her knees, was around her shoulders. Despite looking innocent on a flawless face, her light blue eyes held a predatory edge to them. Similar to Remus' golden ones when he was a werewolf.
Then again, she probably was quite dangerous to his person.
"I didn't come here to fight," Sirius proclaimed, making a gesture of peace, but not letting go of his wand. "I'm only here to search for someone."
"And why would a wizard be searching for an elemental?" she asked, skepticism lacing every word. "You aren't a relative of any of the clan members, that I'm sure of."
Sirius blinked. "There are wizards that knew?"
"But of course," the woman replied calmly. "We prefer to keep it only to our families and close friends. Most wizards have a disturbing habit of disrespecting our kind of magic. Then again, there are those that do the same within the elementals as well." She stated this simply and baldly, as if this were an accepted truth. "Whom are you searching for?"
"Harry Potter."
"There is no one here of that name."
"Then…" He thought for a moment, his mind trying to grasp the strange name of the dark-haired woman. One of the leaders, Thanatos had said. Surely, this woman would know then? "Zylle Hawking."
This got a reaction. The elemental's eyes widened slightly in surprise before narrowing. Suddenly, she seemed more predatory than before, a steel edge forming. "You're that wizard…the one she met after fighting Keane." He assumed that 'Keane' was the other elemental that this Zylle woman was supposedly fighting with before they met. "The one who tried to arrest her," the woman spat accusingly.
Apparently, that move hadn't gone over too well here.
"I had a reason-"
"I'm sure you did," she interrupted scathingly. "And you people wonder why we stay separate from you."
How did she know?!
"Leave now. And don't come back."
Sirius stood his ground. "I'm not leaving until I see Zylle Hawking." Moving into the accepted stance of a dueler, he raised his wand. "Understood."
The woman sighed in what seemed to be an exasperated manner. "You are making a mistake that you can back out of."
"I'm not leaving."
"Suit yourself," she said flippantly. "It seems as if I'd have to remove you myself." He refrained from snorting in laughter. "Besides, I could use a good fight."
Before he knew it, he was the recipient of a harsh blow to his chest. Wincing from both pain and shock, he staggered back, giving her the time to knock him off his feet with a well executed low-kick. He rolled out of the way, before she could manage to make another attack.
The sidewalk cracked as the metal of her gauntlets smashed against the solid cement.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
A blue light surrounded his opponent, but she merely grinned.
Before standing and giving him a jump kick. Reminder: thank Orville. Concentrating on the training he received years ago, he managed to catch her foot before it connected with his skull.
But he didn't expect her to continue to spin in the air. And certainly wasn't anticipating the sharp chop to his shoulder. He relinquished his grip, scowling from the attack. He was certain: that mere blow managed to break his shoulder blade. Thinking before she could assault again, he pointed his wand at her. "Expelliarmus!"
This time, she was flung back. Not very far, but she was distracted enough for him to tackle her. He wasn't very experienced in hand-to-hand combat, like these elementals obviously were. Most Aurors were trained only in the magical arts, relying on their wands and magic. Very rarely on their strength alone. Zacharias Orville had taught a class on the basics, but he had only attended a few of them. This move, from what he remembered (vaguely) from that class, was to pin the enemy down. Sure enough, the woman was pinned to the ground.
No threat. He grinned in victory.
"Not bad, wizard," she said smirking. "I'll give you that."
"I do have a name, you know," Sirius responded confidently. He had the upper hand now. "It's Sirius Black."
"Really? And here I thought the murderer was falsely convicted." It appeared that he was still a bit of a celebrity after what happened two years ago.
"You attacked me!"
"You wouldn't leave. And maybe you should know my name. If you did, you would see why most people wouldn't even think of attacking me."
"And it is…"
"Mirai Alucard." She flashed a grin.
The predatory gaze. Her deathly pale skin. The incredible strength and agility.
Fangs.
Vampire fangs.
Oh crap.
He was violently thrown to the side, the supernatural force sending him flying. As Sirius recovered himself, he looked at the woman (who was brushing the dust off herself in a very unconcerned manner) with new wariness. Vampires were notorious among the Ministry ranks. True, most had moved to different countries (particularly America) because of the constant hired slayers looking for a bounty, but they were still dangerous.
And this one…was an Alucard. And among the vampires, the Alucards were royalty. Sired from Vlad Tepes Alucard (or "Dracula" as the muggles called him), the king of the vampires, himself.
Of all the vampires in the world that he could possibly face he ended up going one-to-one with an Alucard. His pessimism increased as two blades formed in Mirai's hands. Jittes, if he could recall from a random history class that he for the most part slept through. The metal they were made from was bright red, splashes of gold and orange in its surface.
And the edges were glowing white, the heat emanating making his skin warm.
Not good.
She slashed the air in his direction, white-hot plumes sent at him. He raised his one arm to his face, the other his wand before saying "Aegis magus!" It was a standard shield spell and probably wouldn't do much against the elemental magic, but it was worth a shot.
But he felt nothing.
A gasp from Mirai alerted him to look up.
Around him, instead of the gray shield of the Aegis Magus spell…were flames. They absorbed Mirai's power easily, while protecting his body.
And that was when everything went black.
"-the students are more terrified of Irving and even more so of Majere! I am not terrorizing the students, Albus!"
"Please demonstrate a time when you don't terrorize the students!"
"I only do that to your dunderheads, Minerva!"
"Minerva! Severus! Please calm-"
"But he is right. I've seen an entire hallway of students be silenced with one word from Irving and just a look from Majere. Even the Weasley twins don't dare to act up in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Which is a welcome change for us staff members, Lupin-"
"Ah!" With that undignified yell, Sirius Black landed hard on the deep red carpeting. A snide remark, an disbelieving look, someone helping him up, and eyes twinkling in amusement all pointed out that he was in the Headmaster's office. As he blinked the blurry vision away, he recognized the room: it's red scheme, the dark wood desk, the silver gadgetry, the Sorting Hat. Fawkes, the phoenix, sitting serenely in the corner. He had been in that room often enough when he was a student.
"Sirius!" McGonagall exclaimed. "How on Earth-"
Dumbledore interrupted, "Hold on a moment, Minerva. I think he's in a slight state of shock."
"Padfoot?" Remus asked. Shaking the other man slightly, Remus sighed, "Padfoot, snap out of it."
Snape just sneered. "I doubt a little shaking will bring Black out of his perpetual daze."
This brought him back. "Shut it, Snivellus!"
Whatever Snape retorted with, Sirius did not hear. Because he noticed that there was another person in the room. A person that he found quite shocking and a bit irritating. Though he admitted that – personality-wise – they were quite alike. For sitting comfortably in one of the Headmaster's armchairs…was Thanatos. Death seemed to be amused, which didn't help his mood much. I bet he has something to do with this…
"What are you doing here?!"
"I WORK HERE, Black!"
"Not you," Sirius snapped. He pointed accusingly at the god. "I meant him!"
Snape looked directly at Thanatos, who just waved merrily, before turning back to the Auror. "There's no one there. Wonderful. We have a mentally unstable murderer here."
He just shrugged it off. "Well? Answer!" At the moment, he didn't quite care about the concerned (and one condescending) looks he was getting.
"This is the thanks I get for saving your life? I never thought you'd be so ungrateful! You're breaking my heart!" For good measure, the god put on an expression of hurt while holding a hand to his heart.
"You know what? I don't care about that! What did you do?!"
"Temper, temper, my adorable little descendant. Remember who you're dealing with."
"Shut up!"
"Now how can I answer you then if I'm supposed to shut up? You really shouldn't be so unclear."
Sirius gave a baffled look to the deity before closing his eyes, massaging his temples in slow circles. "One moment, I'm in Grey Tower." The Auror missed the sudden intense glance the Potions Master threw at him. "The next, I'm here. You are here. Explain."
"Well, I can't let you just die right now. It's not your time. And I do have to look after you. I mean, you're family! Didn't you learn how to deal with vampires?"
"No!"
"Oh. Well, that clears things up a great deal. I was wondering why you were doing so poorly against her. Though she is an Alucard. Impressive family. Anything else?"
"Yes," he gestured to the other four in the room. Five now, if you counted one Phineas Nigellus, who had wandered in. Armando Dippet had left the Headmaster's office to alert him to his now "insane" great-grandson. Though judging from the side conversation, Phineas seemed to be eyeing the armchair Thanatos was resting on suspiciously. "Why can't they see you?"
"One, they have no real 'connection' to me, unlike you. And two, I didn't want them to. But that can be remedied." Thanatos snapped his fingers. One look at the others told him all that he needed to know.
"How did he get in here?" McGonagall demanded. All four (for Phineas couldn't hold a wand for lack of anatomy) had their wands trained on the stranger. Thanatos, in what Sirius could gather was his normal way, just faced it with an unnerving lack of seriousness. Though Phineas was throwing startled looks between him and the god.
"Easily, dear lady," Thanatos replied. "I can go anywhere I please." He then paused, studying Phineas intently. "Oh! I remember you! You're another descendant of mine." He laughed jovially. "You were the one that acted so much like Moros, it was just scary. And if Phobos and Deimos admit it, then it has to be true!"
The occupants of the room just blinked in confusion. Before a violent quake knocked them off their feet and sending Fawkes to take flight because his stand fell.
"Well, I'd best be going," replied the god of death. "She really doesn't like me. Honestly…and she calls me immature! And now that I think about it I think that I'm older than she is…oh well. See you again! And keep trying! Don't let Mel get you down!" With that and a small whirlwind, Thanatos disappeared.
"Sirius," Lupin managed to say in the stunned silence, "who was that?"
"Nathaniel Black. Thanatos. Death. Whichever one you prefer."
Severus, the man of wit and sarcasm that he was, then said blandly. "Then I was right. You do live to kill me. It's in your blood."
"The finalists for the title of Black Dragon are Mordecai Freely and Nuitari Hawking! The next match will take place tomorrow at sundown!"
He had made it to the finals.
Now only one person stood in the way of achieving his goal. That person was the water elemental, Mordecai Freely. He wouldn't back down, even if Mordecai had proven to be, for lack of better words, dangerous.
But what was that scene during the fight? Was it a…memory? He'd have to discuss it with Zylle and maybe Dr. Diamante later. At the moment though, the tournament was the most important thing on his mind.
And I will win, Nuitari Hawking pledged to himself.
I wonder sometimes…is it worth it?
Is it worth it? To lose so much? What have I gained from what I have done?
Even now, I begin to wonder if it mattered to begin with, for I am not given credit for what many others and I did. Instead, those who opposed what was done are said to have done it. And they, in their warped egotistical sense of self, do not contest this claim.
Why?
It is simple. Because I am supposedly dead. But I'm not. I'm just…detained.
Though I really shouldn't be very surprised at this. Before, when I was 'alive', they were scared of even insulting me in private. Yet, as soon as the others and I were gone, they ruthlessly took what was ours and twisted it, deforming it from what could have been a thing of beauty. If not for them, things would have been much better.
However, I am not surprised in the least. They, of course, would view anything that we had accomplished to be something to be destroyed, a threat to their existence.
After all, I am a harbinger. Our purpose in the great design: to destroy. We were given many, many names in the pasts. I remember the planet of Xyner gave us the epithet of "the harbingers of chaos who fly on death-shadowed wings". It is probably from that soubriquet that became known as 'harbingers'. Very few that were light-born understood the true impact of our task. For how can anything be built without destruction? In a universe as full as this, for something to be made there must be room made for it to be created. That was my job, what all of our jobs were. My hands are stained with the blood, tears, and dust of countless organisms, individuals, societies, civilizations, gods, and worlds. Do I feel guilty? In a sense, yes. But no one understands that out of the ruins of old, the new will rise, hopefully building up from what had came before. That was what made my task worth it, worth everything.
It was the Golden Age, a time of great accomplishment and culture. Planets and civilizations billions of years (I believe the humans have called it light years) away from each other communicated with each other in peace and harmony. Knowledge was available to the lowest of organisms and the highest of kings. Scarcity was something unknown in this time of prosperity and abundance. Magic was given to everyone, commonplace in the great scheme of things. While my companions and I were largely feared, the peoples of the universe rose up to the challenge that we brought and overcame them, furthering themselves and their lives. They were what made everything worth it. Hundreds of gods presided over the planets, all united under the Great Triumvirate: the Almighty, the Universe, and the Chaos. Althelion, god of truth, and the Dark Sovereign kept order and the peace. An age I greatly miss.
The dark deities, children of the Universe, and light-born god, created by the Almighty, coexisted relatively well. Not how it is now. Even now, I believe, that Erebus, the god-king of darkness, and Aether, the god-king of light, still are good friends, as are their wives: the stately Nyx and the bubbly Hemera. Though I was much closer to the dark ones. Perhaps because we were both created by the same individual? Probably. Though their children never ceased to amuse me.
There were the angels. They were our messengers, though back then, they were given much more free will and reign. Though some did defect, becoming agents of destruction that, unlike myself, would yield nothing. Their destruction was also part of my task.
Then it happened. Krynn was created to be a haven for a great civilization of magic-users. That was the original plan. But someone incited the goddess Tahkisis against her consort Palatine. I say someone, because now I know who it was. It caused a great conflict on that planet and the balance of the Universe was thrown. To add to disorder, Althelion was killed. In an attempt to quell the cause, I was sent to Krynn as a god of black magic. I became Tahkisis' youngest son and attempted to reach a balance. However, I found out too late that Destiny decreed it to be this way. I left the planet with the other gods years later, returning to my harbinger role, but retaining the name I was given. Things had only worsened. Planets and peoples were dying at a rapid rate, which had nothing to do with the others or myself. The balance, which was steadily deteriorating, was taking its toll. I do not think there are many other peoples left in the universe currently.
A new planet was going to be created: one called Earth. The Almighty was in a vengeance against the Chaos, who had made a demonic world without consulting the other three. The Universe, the great mother, had already left for somewhere unknown. I don't know where. The individuals of this 'Earth' were going to be 'dead'. That was my opinion. They would live in a 'dead' world of perfection with no individuality or flaws. There were many planets like this at the time, both the Almighty and the Chaos trying to overcome the other. Both sides would not listen to our pleas for a compromise.
It was then that we came to a decision. It was then that we gave our gift. And we were punished for it. Either side could not kill us, since our creator was gone. So our souls were banished among the peoples and societies that we had animated. Though some of us received fates worse than others. I am one, as is the Sovereign, Megami, Falcifer, and Hiroshi. Darius, the greatest of the harbingers, would go down as well.
My last memory was that of Erebus' and Nyx' youngest child at the time. Melania Amarna, darkness eternal. She was playing with Thanatos, he who brings death. The mischief that he brought! She was a precocious child, though Nyx mentioned that the young goddess distinctly disliked another slightly older light-born goddess, Pheta.
But we are not completely dead. A part of us still retains our old knowledge and the means to reclaim our power, buried in the subconscious of our souls. Destiny foretold we would come back. And when I was banished, I swore I would reawaken in one born of the line of darkness. I merely watch from and wait until the day finally comes. When I can fly across the skies, the seas, and the celestial mists on my black wings again.
The day that I, Nuitari, would know if it was all genuinely worth it.
I give thee my faults.
*************
I have a lot going on and my merciless teachers keep adding more! Check my profile page for details. Good news is that I passed my Chemistry midterm. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Quatre Winner (thanks so much!) graciously offered to host any fanart (I'd love to see any) and my review responses. I haven't given any for the last chapter, but I will respond to everyone's reviews for this one. So go there to have your questions answered. The site is posted on my profile.
~Raven Dragonclaw
This chapter: The Flames of Battle
· The results of the battle between Dudley, his friends, Harry, and the Death Eaters.
· A Phantom elemental attack near Hogsmeade causes some concern.
· Zylle's worries and Lavinia's suspicions.
· Mordecai Freely vs. Bran Ravencroft
· Simeon Bradley vs. Nuitari Hawking (Harry)
· Sirius finds Grey Tower and is confronted by Mirai. Thanatos moves him out of danger.
· The announcement of the finalists and Harry's reaction.
· The musings of the harbinger called 'Nuitari'.
Next chapter: The Black Dragon· Melania, Tom, and the elemental gods.
· Harry's family and friends give him encouragement before the final match.
· Three intrepid wizards decide to try to enter Grey Tower (Sirius, Remus, and Severus). Unfortunately for them, they run into the goddess of mischief herself.
· Thanatos and Iris at the Castle in the Sky.
· Voldemort's growing confidence and Pheta's suspicions.
· Nuitari Hawking vs. Mordecai Freely for the title of Black Dragon
· The Black Dragon, and the other leaders of the clans are introduced and formally given their titles.
· Harry receives his eye mark (for reference: see the end of Chapter 9 where Mirabelle and Harry talk.
Note: Chapter 34 is the last chapter of Genesis. Then I'll move on to Elemental Prophecies.