Chapter XVI: The Disciples of the Wizard
The battlefield lit up with the flaming torch of one brilliant wand crackling blue streams of light that vanquished all shadows from its path. Backs of unclothed giants glistened; their sweat reflected beads of blue. Sleek fur covering all fear from the Centaurs now shimmered in a radiant brilliance. A cool, calming breeze echoed the breathless silence that now swept along each heroic creature.
An orb of flickering white floated from out a Tower's arched window. Its diameter covered nothing more than seven feet but the light it poured out stretched for dozens of that size. As it hovered above the fields of bloody mud and reddened soil, one Centaur, the leader of the group, pranced forward and shouted with a hoarse bellow.
"Thou dost not scare the likes of mine!"
"Here here! 'Tis heartily sure. We shall take thy worse blows, and spite we shall blow back," a younger Centaur near him agreed.
However, the Giants did not seem concerned about this being that shimmered only inches from their large heads. Their immediate shortage of breath was now replaced with blank looks of boredom, as if they waited for some cue to continue fighting once more. As they waited, a small huddle of Centaurs began to dig their hooves into the muddy earth, throwing chunks of flesh and blood into the air. Pieces of deformed kin now flew near the Orb, but nothing could touch it.
Seeing this, the leader Centaur clutched an iron arrow from out a satchel and tuned it into his fine haired bow. As he strummed it backwards every so gently, he focused his eyes onto the Orb that now hovered still above the fields. With one quick swipe of the hand and release of tension, the arrow jolted upward into a hyperbolic, curved path and flew straight toward the center of the Orb.
Yet, it was untouchable. As the arrow caressed the Orb's front side, it's sharp tip blunted, and the arrow itself snapped form orbit and fell quickly to the ground below. This was no ordinary spell or enchantment but one that not even the great Centaurs, with charmed bows themselves, could not scratch. Just as the leader began to reach for yet another arrow in attempt to burst the Orb above, a blinding blue light emerged, forcing each Centaur to drop its weapon and clasp its burning eyes in agony.
"Young brethren, too hastily your blood-lust flows. Follow us, and be spared of such miserable skirmishing. Continue, and forfeit your life to a damnation, where you shall see your kin that chose us wisely reign supreme."
A loud, formable voice boomed from out the Orb. It echoed some reason but was filthy in sin. The leader of the Centaurs listened and knew quickly to whom it belonged. He had heard this voice many a times ago when peace was brought to the lands; yet now, it seemed his role was reversed.
"Great wizard! Sir Dumbledore! What madness has sent you to the enemy's side?"
"What madness indeed. You speak too quickly, a horse with a silver tongue no less. What name did you call me?"
"No disrespect, Sir Dumbledore, but you cannot see clearly through these soiled fields. You are fighting for thee wrong side. Cannot you see with your wise grey eyes that these Giants do want to destroy Hogwarts? 'Tis not us thee enemy but thy else."
"Of course, I was the one who summoned them."
"You?"
"Surprised?" Dumbledore asked, his face slowly revealed through the shimmering Orb. The Centaurs now heaved out air heavily, trying not to faint in shame and for dignity's sake. The leader darted his eyes to the Giants and then to Dumbledore and connected such a foul play in his mind. What treachery did the Wizard do? How could this possibly happen?
"Thou art brainwashed! Squalor has plagued your thoughts! We shall subdue them together, as one!"
"Neither right you have told. I am not who you think I am," Dumbledore stated and lifted his glowing blue wand.
"Who are you?" the leader shouted back.
"I am Dumbledore," he responded, his face grim and wrinkles deep. "I am the Lord of all Wizards, and I command thee to surrender."
The leader knew these were not the words of the kind, wise Dumbledore he knew. Some power had taken hold of him, perhaps one far greater than ever imagined. Whichever the case, the leader had no chose but to admit defeat to him or face certain death of both himself and his kin. And so, the leader galloped forward to the spot right underneath the Orb, forcing Dumbledore to move back a bit.
"We shall surrender."
"Wise choice. Now—"
"Under the following circumstances," the leader continued to speak.
"Oh? This should be rather interesting. Go on. Amuse me."
"You can destroy Hogwarts and all the wizards and witches you desire, but do not touch the Forbidden Forest as you call it. It must remain unharmed. And any damage that you have done to it much be undone."
"Or, I can burn the woods to the ground and slaughter any of you who dare stand in my way," Dumbledore shouted with his lips and eyes so pale.
"We will not give up unless you leave our home unscathed!"
Dumbledore looked down upon the Centaur's staggering body. Gradually, he lowered himself in his protective Orb, and now floated tediously close to the leader Centaur. For a glimpse of a second, Dumbledore released his blue dome, and he drifted unshielded, as if he knew nothing could ever harm him.
"You have brought your own slaughter then," Dumbledore voiced in a cold, melancholy rasp. "As for the one you call Dumbledore, he cannot save you now. Pray to whatever Lordship you entreat upon, and pray that He does you more justice than those around you."
The leader stared into the Wizard's gray eyes, and gasped in his revelation. This was not the wise, old wizard he loved and trusted. A beast gawked back at him, one that was thought to have been shattered; yet his power could never be crushed into fine pieces, only slightly crackled and bonded again easily.
"Voldemort? You are the one controlling Dumbledore? You are the puppet master here?"
The Wizard chuckled. "Not exactly. He is the one who controls all but I am his successor. When He cannot be here in body, I am here in mind. Kneel down before me."
"Then you are merely Voldemort's puppet?" the leader shouted, unerring of his words yet heedful of his fatal pride. "Whose shadow are you?"
But instead of replying, the Wizard lifted his left palm and waved it in front of his face. As the gnarled fingers glided over each ancient wrinkle, they slowly smoothed out and a new face emerged; a shadow, a puppet, his identity took many terms but his power was assured. He controlled Dumbledore and perhaps other leaders within Hogwarts. He was the true villain, and his blood ran deep within the House of Gryffindor.
***
"Your broom?" Hermione rolled her r's as she counted each students' head in the Common Room. She mumbled the number of wands and older students, trying to calculate how many of them were needed to help the younger group.
"I don't have one," a first year replied.
"Hermione, may I suggest that they remain behind," a girl's voice interrupted.
"Kimberly? Where have you been?"
"That does not matter," she said slowly, pausing in between each word. Something was very different about her appearance. Although her hair was spiked all wrong and her make-up askew, there was an aura about her face that changed the very being within her.
"Yes, it does. I haven't seen you around. Have you been with Harry?"
Kimberly shook her head. "I haven't seen him as of late. But what I do see now are first and second years that cannot even hold a wand nor enchant a spell. They cannot be brought into battle. Leave them here."
"I cannot leave them alone," Hermione replied, unsure of what Kimberly was doing and why she seemed so abnormal.
"I will stay with them," Kimberly suggested. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of them."
Hermione was reluctant at first. She had not seen Kimberly around nor did she know what she was really up to. However, she did make a good point. The first years were in grave danger if they entered the chaos outside. Perhaps leaving them behind was the best option.
"Fine. They will stay with you. I hope you know what you're doing," Hermione snipped back at her and began to instruct the younger wizards where to go. As she pointed them toward Kimberly's direction, a gnawing pit scratched at Hermione's stomach. Something felt terribly wrong about this.
"Hermione," a faint voice whispered.
She turned to see Ginny wobbling to stand up. Her weakened state made her vulnerable, unable to move without the assistance of the wall beside her. Ginny tripped over her sluggish feet, forcing her to grip onto the windowpane. Her eyes glued outside the image outside as they bulged from out her socket, glowing an unnatural color.
"Ginny!" Hermione shouted and ran to her side. As she grabbed Ginny's arm, trying to help her back up, she noticed Ginny's eyes fixated again on the window. Hermione peered through the tainted glass and squinted at the appalling sight. "Is that Dumbledore out there?" Hermione asked herself, making out the back of a very tall and gray bearded wizard.
"He is not Dumbledore," Ginny replied, her eyes so round that her lids were barely apparent. "Ah… Kill him now…. Kill him!"
Ginny now screamed, her high pitch forcing each student in the room to run from their spots and ogle at the scene. Hermione attempted to hush her by pressing her fingers against her lips, but Ginny continued to moan in pain. This time, she did not collapse as before. Instead, she grabbed Hermione's arms, digging in her trembling fingernails.
"HE must be stopped."
"Voldemort?"
"Stop him now, Hermione. KILL HIM!" Ginny shouted and then rolled her eyes back, letting the whiteness of her eyeballs glare back. Hermione flinched, disgusted by the sight. She then turned to the group of disheveled Gryffindors.
"You heard her… Third year students and older, mount your brooms. We have some business to take care of."
And with that, the older Gryffindors gripped their wooden sticks and pressed down on them, letting them hover beneath the ground. One by one the students took flight, each forming a line of pairs so that each student could defend the other one if something came from the other side. Hermione sat on top her Nimbus, leading the pack of wolves to their game.
"Lower your wands. Keep them secure until needed. Watch each other's back. If someone falls, do not turn away. That could be you in trouble. Under no circumstances do we fall back. Ready your brooms. Ready them," Hermione barked out her orders, a general in a young lady's body. After a slight hesitation, she flew forward her hand and shouted, "Swiftly now, fly on!"