Hello again everyone! Wow… this is like some kind of record for me: Four chapters in under two weeks… aren't you guys proud of me! Anyways, I know Amy Rose has been begging for a new chappy-poo… so this one's for you, girl! Best wishes to all my reviewers! I'd like to know what you think, so let me know! Even if you've already reviewed, it's nice to tell the author what you've liked or disliked since your last review! Thanks a lot, everyone! Enjoy!
Chapter Four: Angel with the Scabbed WingsHe is the angel with the scabbed wings…
Dead is what he is, he does what he pleases
The things that he has you'll never want to see
What you're never gonna be now
Sketch a little keyhole for looking-glass people
You don't want to be him
You only want to see him
— Angel with the Scabbed Wings by Marilyn Manson
Harry had, at first, been a little anxious about continuing his Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. He was worried that the man's temper would suddenly flare into action, again, because of the Pensieve incident, but this was not the case. Professor Snape seemed to have totally forgotten that such a thing had ever occurred. Or maybe he was just ignoring the fact. Whatever it was, Harry was happy that he would not have to be on the receiving end of Snape's vengeance, and made no attempt whatsoever to remind him. In fact, he had been careful to avoid talking about anything that might cause Snape to refer back to the incident. So Harry headed, more happily than was to be supposed, back down to Snape's dungeon, in hopes of improving his dream-control ability. He'd been having a strange vision, lately, that he'd wanted to talk to his professor about.
"Enter." Snape said harshly, at Harry's knocking on the door.
Harry stepped slowly inside.
"Ah, Potter… Not late as usual, I see," said Snape, as he rose from his desk. Harry took his usual seat at the front of the classroom, took a deep breath, and prepared himself for what was to happen.
"Have you dreamed lately?"
"Yes, sir," said Harry. "Although, I've been seeing less and less of the visions, or dreams, or whatever. I'm not really sure what was going on in this one; I could only make out bits and pieces."
"Good," said Snape pleasantly. "You're finally making progress. Now keep your thoughts blank; I'm going to try to break into your mind again." He lowered his wand towards Harry and hissed, "Legilimens!"
Harry's mind exploded with intensity. He was underwater, swimming with flippers – he was flying through the air on broomstick, Malfoy was about to grab – he saw a flash of red eyes, and began to fight his teacher, began to push back along the wire of power; he broke the threshold. He saw a red-haired girl – his mother – sitting in the library – Sirius was laughing in the hallway… but no, Sirius was gone… Harry blinked, and opened his eyes. He was lying on the stone floor, and as he raised himself slowly, he found that his professor had also sunk to the ground, knees up, back leaning against the large mahogany desk. Evidently, Snape had cut the connection before Harry could penetrate his thoughts any further.
"Good." Snape said, his voice slightly breathy. He appeared to be lost in thought, his gaze unfocused. Something he had seen within Harry's mind had bothered him. Something that could prove to be very embarrassing if not approached correctly. "Have you been dreaming about Professor Seraph?" Snape asked suspiciously.
Harry blushed profusely. He had to admit, he had been thinking about her quite often, as of late, and not merely because she was an Angel; she was a very beautiful woman as well. But he had never dreamt about her, not in the way that Snape was implying. "No." Harry said quickly.
Snape's gaze narrowed. "I was sure I saw a glimpse of her somewhere… in the scene with the Dark Lord…" Suddenly, Snape got to his feet and strode over to the fireplace. "Incendio," he said, lighting the flames. Then he threw a handful of powder into the hearth, and called, "Mavet! A word, if you don't mind."
There was a flash of flame, and a raven flew from the ashes of the fireplace to land on the floor beside the Potions Master. In a swirl of smoke, the raven lost its form, and instead became the smooth silhouette of Professor Seraph. Her robes today remained their predominant black, yet her cloak was a deep green, lined with fine silver. She flipped one side of her cloak aside, and the silver serpent pendant she wore became visible. Like the ring, it too had eyes of gleaming emeralds.
"Slytherin colours, today?" asked Snape with an amused expression.
"No," she said. "My colours." She smirked. "You wanted something, Severus?"
Severus crossed his arms, and paced before his desk for a moment. "I have been giving Potter Occlumency lessons."
"Yes, I was aware."
"I found something… interesting in his mind."
"And what was that, pray tell?"
Harry tried very hard to keep from laughing. Professor Seraph was unconsciously imitating Professor Snape. Either that, or she simply shared some of his mannerisms naturally.
"You know, I assume," Snape continued, "that Potter is able to see glimpses of the Dark Lord through the link that they both share?"
"Yes."
"I saw you in one of his visions." Snape said in an accusatory tone. "So tell me: how have you come in contact with the Dark Lord?"
"I assure you, I have never met the man." Professor Seraph said, somewhat confused. "Maybe you didn't see what you thought you saw."
"I am sure," Snape pressed. "I saw a shadowed figure through the Dark Lord's eyes. A figure with one green eye and one red one. Now, tell me: who else besides you fits that description?"
Slowly, the realization began to form on Professor Seraph's face. A look of horror closely followed. "He did it again." She muttered viciously under her breath. Then she looked back at Severus. "Which eye was red, the left or the right?"
Snape hesitated for a moment, and then approached Harry again. "Keep your mind blank," he said quietly, and raised his arms to press both palms against the sides of Harry's head. Slowly, Harry felt his mind go numb, and his eyes close sleepily, as Snape sifted through the individual thoughts in his head until he found the one he wanted. There was no pain this time, he noticed; just a peaceful sleepiness.
Severus closed his eyes as the vision he'd selected played out for him in full. If he'd been aware of muggle computers, he'd have compared the method to selecting and playing any specific video file.
He was in a dark room, staring out from eyes that were not his own, from beneath a hood that was also, not his own. He was in a sort of dimly lit throne room, with floors and pillars of black marble. He knew this throne room; it was the Dark Lord's throne room. A shadowy figure approached from beside him, on the dais. That was odd; no one ever approached the Dark Lord from the dais; they either bowed and ceased at the steps, or were summoned specifically to him. Severus felt himself rise to greet the newcomer.
"I hope you appreciate how hard this was to get, Riddle." Said the voice, blurred by smoke.
"Oh, I do," Severus felt himself say. "I have great plans for this, indeed."
"I am sure…" said the shadowy figure, in amusement, as it came close enough for Severus to see that it had one red eye, with a slitted pupil, and a scar running lengthwise like Mavet's, and one green. The vision suddenly ended, and Severus was thrust out of Harry's mind. His eyes snapped open, and he was staring at green, as he realized that Harry was staring back at him. Severus stood and stepped away from his student, turning once again, to face the Angel behind him.
"The Dark Lord was speaking to someone, almost like an equal; someone with a red right eye and a green left eye," he said as he stared back into the Angel's green right eye and red left eye. "So it wasn't you…"
"No."
"Professor Seraph," Harry said, speaking for the first time since she had arrived, "Are there any other angels who have eyes like yours?"
"Yes," she sighed, smiling at the boy. "There is one other. This is who, I believe, Severus saw in your vision."
"Well?" Severus pressed. "Who is he? What is his name? I should think you would want to heavily punish any of your people who would associate themselves with the Dark Lord."
Mavet chuckled softly and then frowned as a wave of nostalgia passed over her.
"He has many names…" she said softly. "He is the one ethereal figure whom you humans have integrated so completely into your culture."
At that, Severus knew instantly whom he had seen in the Dark lord's throne room. "The Devil."
Mavet nodded. "That is the most publicized of his names. The Fallen One, Usurper of the Throne, The Prince of Darkness, Beelzebub, Lucifer, Satan, Hades. There are many more, in more tongues than I care to delve into at the moment. But, yes, you saw the Devil; fallen Angel of Heaven, now ruler of the Underworld: Hell."
"So… What does this mean?" Severus asked, as he leant casually against the frame of the great mahogany desk. "What do we do?"
Mavet paced back and forth, one hand at her waist, the other at her jaw. "That's the problem… we don't yet know enough to move ahead. I'm not even sure that Lucifer has it."
"It?" wondered Harry.
"The weapon." Mavet said nonchalantly, still immersed in thought.
"You still haven't told us exactly what this weapon is." Severus said in an accusatory manner.
"Hmm…" Mavet shook her head. "I think we should go speak with the Headmaster." And before either mortal could object, Mavet had snapped her fingers, transporting them all to the circular office in which Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was currently seated at his desk. Severus, who was merely unbalanced, was lucky enough to receive a fate much more mild than his student; Harry fell over completely, having no longer had a chair to support his awkward position. Mavet, however, seemed unperturbed, unlike Albus, who jumped upon witnessing the instant arrival of three people, unannounced, in his office.
"Albus, I need a favor." Mavet said instantly, upon their arrival.
Dumbledore was momentarily shell-shocked. "Ah… yes… If it is possible, I don't see why not."
"We, that is, Harry, Severus, and I, have made a shocking discovery that concerns the weapon I told you about. I believe that Lucifer may be in possession of it, but I must verify that before I move ahead with my plan."
"I see… Lucifer, eh? That seems likely," Albus began. "What is it that you need?"
"Well, who would be a more accurate question, but to get to the point, I require Severus's help and about a week's leave for the both of us."
Albus though on this for a moment and then said, "I think I can allow that, if Severus is in agreement to this."
"I am, Headmaster," said Snape.
Albus nodded. "Although," he continued, "I must ask what you intend to do with regard for your classes, until you return."
Professor Seraph opened her mouth to speak, but Snape was quicker. "I'm sure we can arrange for some study sessions in the library," he said with a smirk. "I daresay the students will need them for the tests they will have upon our return."
Mavet shot him a questioning, yet thankful look before turning back to the Headmaster.
"Very well then," Albus said with a nod. His fingers were steepled together upon his desk, and he seemed amused by the whole situation. "May I ask why you requested Severus's help in particular?" he asked, steeling a glance at his Potions Master.
"Severus knows more about Voldemort and his supporters than I, or, I assume, anyone else here. He also has extensive knowledge of procedural tendencies and the layout of Voldemort's, shall we say, base of operations."
"Ah… I see." Albus smiled.
"It's early," Mavet noticed. "We can leave tonight." She glanced at Severus, who nodded, and followed her to the door. "Goodbye, Harry." Mavet said with a smile. Before she slipped out the door, however, she shot a sly, amused grin at Dumbledore. "You know, Albus, I think that you may be getting a little too wise for your own good." And with that, she was gone, and Snape, with her.
"Harry," Dumbledore turned to the boy remaining in his office. "I think you should return to your dormitory now, it is nearly past curfew."
"Yes sir."
Professors Snape and Seraph made their way, quickly, down to the dungeons so that Severus could write up a quick study plan for his students. Mavet confessed that she had already done this, though where she had found the time, Severus knew not.
"What, exactly, will we be requiring on this little crusade of yours?" asked Severus, as they past by the painting that led to his quarters.
To which, Mavet replied, "Nothing we can find here," and led him up to the Entrance Hall. "When you fly, how do you travel?"
"I'd prefer a Thestral, but a broomstick would suffice, unless we're traveling a great distance."
"We will be; I suggest that you find a suitable steed."
Severus led the way, as he made towards the border of the Forbidden Forest. He slipped a knife out from a sheath, hidden in his robes, and slit his palm just enough for several drops of blood to fall to the ground. Several minutes later, there were sounds of rustling in the bushes, and three Thestrals appeared in the clearing. Two began to lick at the spilt blood on the forest floor, but the third contented itself with licking at the wound on Severus's palm. He patted the horse's dragonish nose, and conjured a saddle onto it's back with a flick of his wand. Mavet began to idly stroke the black mane of one of the other Thestrals as Severus attached a bridle, also conjured magically. "Yes," he mused, "I suppose you can see Thestrals. How many people have you seen die?"
"Everyone." Mavet said plainly. Severus nodded.
"So," he said as he hoisted himself onto the Thestral's back. "Are you taking one as well, or is it true, about Angels having wings?"
"Oh, it's true." Mavet confirmed with a grin. Suddenly her cloak evaporated into smoke, leaving the combat uniform beneath, that she had worn the day of Harry's first fencing lesson. She removed her boots, revealing that her flared, yet slit pants ended just past her knees, and closed her eyes. Her feet began to lengthen and transform so that when she was done, she had hackles akin to that of a wolf, and three vicious-looking claws that emerged from the paws of her feet. Her spine lengthened into a tail that was easily six feet long, yet, like her feet, it was still covered in her soft, pale skin. Finally, twin scars drew themselves down her exposed shoulder blades, out of which grew magnificent, feathered wings, black on black as ebony, and at least thirty feet in their total span.
Her transformation finished, she looked up at Severus, who had held his breath, and whose mouth was still gaping.
"Something wrong?" she teased, her mouth curling upwards into a sly grin.
Severus finally got his bearings. "It's not quite what I pictured," he admitted.
"And I supposed you pictured a pair of shining white wings and sheer white robe?" she laughed.
"Something like that."
"Well," she said with a casual flick of her tail. "Don't let the vicious exterior frighten you."
At that, Severus smiled. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you're not nearly as frightening at the Dark Lord."
"Oh, I can be…" She said with a dangerous grin and a glint of malice in her eyes. "I can be so much more than you've ever dreamed of." And as she took off, into the night on wings of raven black, Severus close behind, the Potions Master had a strange sense of foreboding that he would find out exactly how frightening the Angel of Death could be.
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