Hello again, everyone! Wow. Two chapters uploaded within the space of three days… All I can say is: DON'T EXPECT THIS OFTEN! I've just been very much inspired within the last few days, and I've been bursting with ideas. My muse (Severus, obviously) has decided to visit me once more, and I think he's now lurking around in my basement… Oh well, he's welcome anytime, but my fingers will have to learn to type faster. I'm glad that I got so many positive reviews from the last chapter! You guys are great; reviews really make my day! Anyways, here's the next part… Happy Reading!
Chapter Two: Knocking On Death's DoorWe are the youth
We'll take your fascism away
We are the youth
Apologize for another day
We are the youth
And politicians are so sure
We are the youth
And we are knocking on death's door
— Anthem for the Year 2000 by Silverchair
Harry Potter stumbled sleepily into the Great Hall the next morning, rubbing the sand from his eyes as he sat down to join his two best friends at their house table. Peering up at the Head Table, he realized that Professor Seraph was nowhere to be seen.
"Hey, Ron," Harry asked, "What's our first class?"
"Defense," chortled Ron. "Now we'll get to see what this Seraph woman is all about."
"Oh, so that's why she's not at the Head Table; she's probably preparing a class." Harry realized.
"Yup. Guess so."
"Don't you guys think you're a little too obsessed?" Hermione said from across the table.
At that, Ron and Harry both looked at each other, grinned, and at the same time let lose coughs that sounded vaguely like 'Lockhart!' Hermione sighed and went back to her breakfast.
Upon reaching the usual Defense classroom the Gryffindor sixth years discovered that it was locked, and when they knocked to enter, Professor Seraph stuck her head out the door.
"Stay there for a moment, please," she instructed. "We're not using this classroom today." A moment later, she appeared from within the room carrying a large broadsword with a silver handle and another, smaller, narrower sword with rubies adorning the hilt. Both were encased in leather sheaths. "Please follow me." The students did as instructed, and Professor Seraph led them down the hall to a large room devoid of all furniture and objects except for the numerous weapons that adorned the walls. "Please sit in the middle of the floor, and don't touch anything on the walls. You may stash your belongings in this corner (she indicated with a wave) seeing as you will not need them today. This will be a practical lesson."
"Finally!" Hermione said with glee. "A practical lesson. We haven't had one of those in nearly a year."
Once all the students were assembled and seated, Professor Seraph placed the two swords leaning against the wall, and threw off her cloak, placing it in another corner. Underneath she wore black leather pants and boots, which buckled up to her knees. Her black shirt had none of the wide, hanging sleeves that wizards loved, but was a sleeveless halter that exposed her back. Black leather gloves adorned her hands, which were no less nimble as she buckled the scabbard of the broadsword to her waist.
"How many of you are familiar with the art of fencing?" she asked as she stood before them. Not a single one of them raised a hand. "Good." She said with a smile. "We can all begin on the same page. Now, some of you might wonder how fencing relates to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but swords are still a popular weapon among duelists today, and I want to prepare you for those times that you may find yourself without a wand. Precision, perseverance, and practicality. These are the three things I want you to be aware of when we are in this room. Now, I would like you to each select a sword from the walls around you. For now, I want you to stick to the smaller variety, and leave the broadswords alone. You will know if you have selected a broadsword if you need two hands to hold it. Go."
As everyone scrambled towards the walls in excitement, Mavet caught the neck of Harry's robe and pulled him aside. "Potter, the Headmaster asked me to give you this." She took the smaller sword from against the wall and handed it to him. Harry caught sight of the rubies adorning the hilt, and knew immediately what he would find when he unsheathed it. Indeed the name 'Godric Gryffindor' was engraved along the blade of the fine silver sword.
"Thank you, Professor." Harry smiled and looked up at her, willing himself not to wince, and to focus on her right eye only.
Professor Seraph merely grinned, and Harry took his place among his friends. "Now," she began, "Hold your sword gently in your favored hand and assume a stance similar to mine. If you are right handed, stand with your right foot forward and your left foot back. If your shoulders face me squarely, you must shift your position so that only your leading side faces your opponent. Now, why do we stand like this? Can anyone tell me?"
For once, Hermione's hand was not in the air. Apparently she hadn't read much about fencing. Instead, Dean Thomas raised his hand. "It cuts off the angle so that you're opponent can't stab you where you're not protected."
"Excellent answer, Mr. Thomas. Ten points to Gryffindor. You're opponent will always try to attack you where you're unprotected, so it is imperative that you give them the least space to do so."
After the brief introduction, Professor Seraph set them up in rows, to practice the eight basic positions in swordplay as she called them out at the front of the room.
"I want you to have practiced and memorized these positions and their corresponding numbers for next class, please," she said at the end of the lesson. "You may put your swords back where you found them, and then be dismissed."
"Well, that was surely something," commented Hermione.
"That's got to be one of the best lessons we've ever had," agreed Ron. "I mean fencing! Who'd have ever thought we'd learn how to swordfight? This is so great. I'm going to go kick Malfoy's arse."
"You'd better watch it, or you're both going to end up in a mess. We're still prefects remember? You have to set an example for the first years."
"Oh, Hermione, stop being such a… such a mother."
Hermione snorted. "I don't hear Harry complaining, do I?"
Harry had been completely silent throughout the entire conversation. In fact, he hadn't said anything since they had left Professor Seraph's adopted classroom.
"Harry? Hello?"
"Oh! What? Sorry?" Instantly, Harry snapped to attention.
"We were just wondering what you thought of the class. Sorry to interrupt any prophetic musings you may have been having." Hermione said.
Prophetic musings. Now that was the last thing Harry needed at the moment. He still hadn't told his friends about Dumbledore's revelation in his office last June. "Oh. I thought it was good. I like her; I think she's nice." Harry said, still staring at the path ahead of him.
"You don't sound like it," Hermione pressed. "Is something wrong?"
"Professor Seraph gave me Gryffindor's sword," said Harry quietly as he and his friends rounded the corner of the hall.
"She did? Why?" asked Ron.
"She said that Professor Dumbledore wanted me to have it."
"That can't be what's bothering you," Hermione said forcefully. The trouble was: she was right.
Harry sighed. "I can't help it, but whenever she looks at me, I get this horrible feeling. It's a little like being near a Dementor, but more like something bad is going to happen rather than I'll never be happy again."
"It must be that eye." Ron deduced. "Cause whenever I look at it, I get shivers too."
"Well, maybe you ought to ask her about it," said Hermione, once again acting the voice of reason.
"I don't think that would be a very good idea, Hermione." Harry said with a note of finality. "We'd better get to potions. You know Snape will have a fit if we're late."
Meanwhile, down in the dark, dank, musty dungeons of Hogwarts, a particularly nasty-tempered Potions Master was awaiting his class of sixth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors. As he was finishing up a report on his desk, Severus heard a faint tapping at the window. He turned and opened it, allowing the large raven at the sill to flutter onto his desk. Strangely enough, there was a note attached to its leg; not many people used birds other than owls to transport messages. Although, ravens, and crows as well, had been known to memorize messages, but then why was there a note on its leg?
Severus, for once, ignored the rambling thoughts in his head. He was, as the Headmaster had told him on countless occasions, probably just being paranoid.
The raven held out its scaly, clawed foot, and Severus deftly detached the message and held it to the light,
Severus,
If it is possible, I would like to speak with you after your lesson, this afternoon. There is something, I believe, I must ask of you. Burn this message if that is plausible, if not, send the raven back with a more suitable time of your choice.
Many thanks,
Seraph Mavet, Slayer of Souls
Severus read the letter twice and paused, peering at the title at the end. 'Slayer of Souls', he mused, and once again, the almost nauseating feeling passed over him in a wave of cold. Hands trembling, he tossed the letter into the fire, and watched it go up in green smoke, reasoning that he could do nothing to delay the inevitable. Looking at the bird on his desk, he wondered why it hadn't yet left.
"You can go now," he said, indicating the window. The raven simply fluffed its feathers and settled itself more comfortably at the edge of his desk. "I'm closing the window." The raven began to preen its ebon feathers. "Fine, then. Your loss." Severus said in exasperation.
Harry didn't know why, but Snape was in possibly the foulest mood he had ever seen him in, this afternoon, during double potions. With the exception, of course, of when Harry had delved into the man's Pensieve last year. He had split Harry up from his friends and was taking advantage of any small opportunity to yell and rant at him.
"Potter! What did I say about the potency of Dragon's blood? Are you trying to demolish my lab? Detention, after class."
Harry sunk even deeper into his chair, thinking that he had only added three drops of the dreadful stuff; not nearly enough to have reduced a cauldron to smithereens, let alone an entire dungeon. He looked desperately over his shoulder, where Ron gave him a desperate look of pity.
"Weasley! Back to work!" Instantly, both boys turned their attention back to their respective potions.
Harry stayed in his seat after the bell rang, signaling the end of the class. He gathered up all of his supplies and packed them away in his bag, and waited for the last of the students to leave, bracing himself for Snape's temper. Malfoy smirked gleefully at him on his way out. After the door had slammed shut, Snape rounded on Harry, though he appeared calmer and more collected than he had during class.
"Potter, the Headmaster wishes for you to resume Occlumency lessons. I daresay, that you will have gained some miniscule amount respect for my privacy, and that we will not have a repeat of last years' events."
"Yes, sir." Harry replied glumly. He hung his head, truly resenting his actions of several months earlier. "I'm really sorry about that."
Snape stared at him for a moment, regarding him with sinister malice before saying, "Apology accepted, Potter. You will meet me tonight at eight o'clock in my office. I'd let you go now, however, it would not look prudent to have released you after only ten minutes of detention, so I suggest that you read over your text, seeing as I have nothing else for you to do at the moment. Now where is Seraph?" He muttered the last bit under his breath as he glanced at the door.
"Why Severus, I thought, you'd never ask!"
Visibly shaken, both student and professor turned to look at the rear of the room, and saw Professor Seraph standing at the corner of Snape's desk. As the last few feathers faded from her wrist, Severus realized that she had been the raven all along.
"And you felt the need to spy on me, why?" asked Snape angrily.
"Not spy, Severus, that's your job. I merely wanted to watch, seeing as that's what it is in my nature to do. Hello Harry," she said, noticing the boy at the desk in front of Snape.
"If you want to talk, I suggest that we go to my office." Snape said, with a quick glance at Harry.
Professor Seraph shook her head. "We can talk here. I want to know what you can tell me about this." She gestured with her hand in the air. "Morsmordre." A small, fist-sized version of the Dark Mark appeared in green smoke at her side.
"ARE YOU INSANE? You can't conjure that here! Get rid of it!"
"Relax, Severus, no one is aware of it besides the three of us." Nevertheless, Mavet waved her hand though the apparition and the smoke dispersed. "But if it bothers you so…" She let it hang. "I want to know what the significance of that is."
Severus glared at her through narrowed eyes and crossed his arms defiantly. "I refuse to believe that you don't know."
"I know that it is in someway connected to Voldemort (Severus flinched) but I need to know why."
With a sigh, the Potions master sat down on the desk next to Harry, and for a moment, the pair met each other's gaze. Then Snape looked back at Mavet and said, "It's the Dark Mark. The Dark Lord uses it as his sigil, a calling card of sorts. It is also burned into the skin of each of his followers; the Death Eaters." He chuckled. "I suppose that seems rather amusing from your point of view: Death Eaters." Professor Seraph smiled, but Harry had no idea what he'd meant.
"What do you mean, 'burnt into them'?"
Slowly, hesitantly at first, Severus pushed back the sleeve of his robes and showed her the mark on his inner left forearm.
For a moment, Professor Seraph stared at Severus in disbelief. This had not been at all what she'd expected.
As Severus covered his arm, once again, he shot another glance back at the boy sitting in the chair beside him. "Are you going to let Potter in on your little secret, Seraph? Because I assume he'll figure it out sooner or later. By illegal means, if necessary. Other than that, I'm not quite sure why you've allowed him to remain here."
"I need to know how many Death eaters there are. I figure Potter has seen most of them."
"I think there're about thirty, maybe," said Harry.
"There are more than that." Snape said instantly.
"How many more?"
"I can't be sure. He's never assembled them all at one time. I assume you've been sent to kill the Dark Lord?"
"Does Voldemort also bear this mark?" Professor Seraph asked suddenly, almost on impulse.
"No, of course not." Snape answered.
That was the last straw. Mavet didn't really know why she had asked him that. It simply seemed logical that Voldemort would be physically affiliated with his mark in some way, but it was apparent now, that this was not the case. The plan had been skewed. The plan had been skewed and someone was going to pay.
"Damn it!" yelled the black-robed woman, as she pounded the nearest wall with her fists. Tiny pebbles, chips of rock and much dust were instantly dislodged. "I'm going to kill them! I'm going to kill those two… Idiots!"
"I'm afraid you've lost me," said Snape, "Which is a shame because I doubt if you ever really had me to begin with."
"I'm sorry," she said, her arms falling back to her sides. "It doesn't matter now, anyways." Then she turned to Harry and saw the wavering conviction in his face. "Oh, go on, then, child. I can tell that you're just dying to ask me a question. Perhaps more than one."
"I'm not a child," said Harry, resentfully.
"Oh, but you are. You and your Professor here, and the one you call Voldemort… even your beloved Headmaster. You are all just children."
"Wouldn't that imply that you're older than all of them? Even Dumbledore?" Harry asked, a little confused.
Professor Seraph laughed. "Oh, you're right about this one, Severus, he's a clever one, he is. I, Harry, am eons and eons older than you can even fathom. I had become wiser than your wisest scholars, when humanity was still in its infancy."
"Are you a… an alien?" Harry asked, having heard of such things from the muggle television at the Dursley's, though even then, he wasn't allowed access to it that often.
Professor Seraph laughed again, a hysterical grin spreading across her face. Severus just looked bored. "No living thing lives as long as my existence has lasted."
"So, then… what…?"
"She's the bloody Angel of Death, Potter." Severus spat angrily. "And so far, she's proved only to be infatuated with her riddles and her mysteries. I want to know why you're here. You've obviously come for some reason, and it is connected in some way, I think, with the Dark Lord."
Mavet smiled sadly, and spoke to Harry. "Your clever Potions Master is a hard one to impress, Harry." Then her smile faded and she turned back to Severus, her expression one of much seriousness. "There are rules, Severus. Rules that even we ethereal beings must abide by. We each have a purpose, and if we stray even a little from these guidelines, the consequences can be dire."
"But isn't it the Angel of Death's job to punish the wicked?" asked Harry.
Once again, Snape's expression darkened; he gripped the table and stared, emotionless, at the floor.
"Yes, but only if I'm ordered to. I can't go around hacking away indiscriminately at souls I feel deserve punishment. There is a certain way in which things must work so that there is not an imbalance of power. If my power were not kept in check, it would be all too easy for me to overthrow Heaven and become the new reigning power in the universe."
"So you're not here to kill Voldemort?" Harry asked.
"I cannot answer that, because even I am unsure… I was supposed to bring about justice, so you can read into that what you want, but if this weapon of mine hadn't disappeared, then I doubt you would have been aware of my presence in this matter at all."
"So who are you here to kill, then?" Harry asked again, this time voicing the question that had been secretly plaguing Severus's fickle mind.
"I cannot say."
"Then why do you insist on playing these games?" yelled Severus in exasperation as he hauled himself to his feet. "Telling us bits and pieces, and then denying us the answers to the questions that are most important!"
"I simply want to make you aware of as much as I can, and let you know that I will be requiring your… assistance… in the near future, with this matter and others. Don't forget: my hands are tied in this. It would be much easier for me if I could tell you everything. But the fact remains that I can't. So live with it."
"Harry," said Professor Snape in a voice of deadly calm. "I think you should leave. Now." He said all this without taking his eyes off Professor Seraph, and Harry knew he was so angry because of the tone of his voice and the fact that he had called Harry by his first name. Therefore, Harry didn't hesitate or argue; he simply grabbed his belongings and hurried out the door.
Once the sound of the closing door had reached Severus's ears, he exploded. "Damn your reasons! Who are you to parade around and meddle in the affairs—?
But Severus never got to finish his sentence, let alone his rant; Professor Seraph had swooped (there was no other word for it) down on him, and covered his mouth with her own. Severus felt her tongue slip beneath his own, and her arms snake their way around his neck. His hands had settled themselves at her waist, and before he knew it, he was kissing Mavet. He was kissing, tongue and all, the Angel of Death, and for some odd reason, this didn't seem to bother him. He knew that it should. Deep down, he had wanted to break away, to throw her off of him and demand an explanation. But he also knew, at the very centre of his soul, that this seemed right, somehow, and that no matter how badly he wanted to break away, to say no, he couldn't, and that was the end of it. It was a strange feeling, to be so calm, so at ease and at peace with… with everything, but to not quite know why. At last, Mavet released him, and Severus found himself staring down into one beautiful green eye, and one sinister, scarlet eye that was beautiful in a completely different way.
"What…? Why?" He finally settled for the one-worded question, not trusting himself with the rest of his vocabulary, which was usually one of his strong points.
"Because it's right." She said simply, resting her magnificent head against his shoulder. "Because you need this as much as I do. And I've been alone for so long. I can't stand it anymore." She hugged him close and then released him, taking a step back to give him space. "I'm sorry if I've startled you; I'm told that I can often be impulsive." She took a breath. "I mean what I say, though, but I expect I should go now. I've done enough damage here already." She moved, hesitantly, towards the door, and then looked back for a moment. "If you ever need me… you know where to find me." And with that, she slipped out the door, leaving Severus alone to ponder the repercussions of the choices he had just been presented with. He sat down very suddenly, not minding that he still was not at his desk, and thinking all the while that he would need an eternity to thoroughly examine the matters that threatened to tear him apart.
YAY! I think that chapter opened up loads of new possibilities! I'm amazed at how fast my plot is progressing! OK, so now you guys know what to do: REVIEW! Go on, press the lil' button… you can't resist… you know you want to! Hopefully, I'll have the next chapter out soon, but that all depends on how long Sevvie-poo decides to hang around… I make no promises! See ya laterz then!