Thank you one and all for being so patient with me and my quirky computer. I'll respond to reviews at the end of this snippet from Chapter Two.
To explain something, though: - this chapter is far from finished, but I believe I've managed to write just enough to keep you interested in this. I promise you all, I have not abandoned this story, and nor do I intend to. Expect more of this chapter when number three is uploaded in the (hopefully) next few months.
Oh, and one more thing. The latin phrase used at the end will be explained in good time... or you can work it out for yourselves. It's your choice, but I ask you not to give anything away before I do .:: ;) ::.
Now, are you all sitting comfortably? Then I'll continue…
Chapter Two – Grimmauld Place
About the time that Harry had been reading the letters from Ron and Hermione, a group of twelve, shadowy figures had detached themselves from the inky blackness of a sheltered wall, and were now gliding silently towards the space between two rather unremarkable buildings. Before leaving the safety of the darkness, one had raised a long arm, beholding a strange, silvery object with tiny, intricate patterns engraved in the casing. The cap flipped open by a deft movement of a thumb revealed a dial of some sort. Carefully aiming the Put-Outer in turn to each of the grimy street lamps that offered up a petty mimicry of the silver slip of moonbeams, the be-cloaked individual clicked twelve times and waited patiently for the dozen light-spheres to fly their way to him.
Masked now not only by their cloaks but by the darkness of night itself, the twelve crept swiftly onwards until they faced the join between numbers eleven and thirteen. Recognising their presence and wanting to greet them, with sudden aplomb, the join seemed to widen, as if the space between was expanding and forcing the two houses apart. Within mere moments an ornate, yet clearly aged door 'popped' into place and finally blackened windows, crumbling brickwork appeared; number twelve was now visible.
The same figure that had utilised the Put-Outer strode serenely up the short steps and placed a rusting key into the lock. As the door swung open, he reached out a hand and caught the edge to prevent it from colliding with the wall – it would not do to alert the occupant of the house of their arrival.
Beckoning for the others to join him, he took tentative footsteps across the fraying carpet and rapidly moved into the kitchen, securing the doorways along the corridor that was the dark and dingy hallway, and curtains that covered hidden portraits and the mounted heads of long dead House-elves. He stood at the head of a long, clearly old, wooden table, which could quite easily accommodate at least a dozen, and waited patiently for the others to file into the room.
With a muted click of the door, the final figure stood opposite the first, facing each other across the broad length of the table. The darkness was replete with an almost-quietness – the rustlings of cloaks and the high-pitched squeak of the occasional boot over the smooth stone flooring.
With eerie precision, each of the gathered brought out a foot-long candle from the folds of their robes, setting them on the table. The candles filled the spaces between the twelve, and soon each was lit sequentially, beginning and ending with the first to enter the room, which only now removed the hood of his cloak, revealing half-moon spectacles and a grimly determined glint in his eyes.
In a tone steeped in antiquity, Albus Dumbledore whispered slowly, softly and precisely. Words not uttered for score and four years wound their way through the musty air of the kitchen, weaving through the whispery tendrils of pale smoke that trailed upwards from the flickering candle flames. As one, the gathered began to chant in hushed voices.
To a muggle looking in on this, the gathering would seem to be as if a group of people had begun some sort of séance. To anyone with even a hint of magic running through their veins, they would soon realise the mystical and powerful nature of this meeting of souls.
As the almost-coven abruptly ceased their chant, with alarming suddenness, nothing happened. The room grew steadily more hushed, and all held their breaths, waiting, anticipating the beginnings of the ancient spell to occur. Only two of the twelve – the first and last to enter the kitchen – had ever experienced a similar event.
If asked, sometime afterward, none would be able to tell just when the candle flames had turned from warm, wavering yellows to a kind of blue that was somewhere between actinic and those produced by the infamous Goblet of Fire.
"Now," said the eldritch wizard, "you all remember what next must be done." It was more of a vocalised destiny than a statement or question.
"Albus, are you quite certain we need to say… that part…?"
This enquiry came in a Scottish burr much stronger in the closed room than at any other time it had been heard.
"Completely certain, Minerva, in that if it is not spoken I am afraid the thin fabric separating the worlds will tear at the seams. 'All Hell breaking loose' is not simply a figure of speech. We wish to pierce the veil, not rip it to shreds."
He raised a hand to quell the response. "Time is of the essence, Minerva, now more than ever. We must begin...
Postatem obscuri lateris nescitus......
To be continued...
Tessa – Thank you for Undivided's first review! I'm sorry that I haven't updated as soon as perhaps you'd have liked, but I think I explained why. It's a wonderful feeling to check my Log-In and find people have added me to their list of Favourite Authors, or Favourite Stories, and I thank you for being one of those inspiring people.
Shattered Desire – I hope you were able to wait .:: :D ::. Thank you for the praise, and I hope that you achieve the kind of talent that you aspire to. I'm sure you're much better than you think; everyone, after all, is their own worst critic. {This is because we usually overlook our own mistakes, not because we think everything we do is of poor quality}
Mad Eyes – It's a shame the thread with your review of my writing skills/style is no longer accessible – I could have used your quotes for advertising! .:: :D ::. Thank you for the review and for liking my story. I must admit, I did try to read yours (Unforeseen – more people should read it, you know) however, as noted in my above A/N, many things meant I have been unable to access the Internet. I look forward to continuing with your story as soon as possible.
Leslie – Your uplifting remarks, both here, Fiction Press, on the HPDC and everywhere else bring a smile to my eyes and my soul. Thank you for being my inspiration, my muse, my co-author and my Angel. You and Solaris seem to be the only two people who pick up on every clue and nuance I write… it's surprising sometimes how much thought I put into writing these stories. It's the major reason (apart from the computer .:: ;) ::.) why it takes so long between chapters / new stories being uploaded. Love, -me. 3
Japonica – Trust me, much, much more of this story has been planned than I've even had a chance to write.
Siren – .:: :D::. Thank you for saying that! This is my first real attempt at angst-writing and it's nice to have people saying I'm on the right track. What happens next, though, may not always be what you expect… .::ominous thunder rolls can be heard::.
Kassieee – (or however you spell your name .:: :P ::.) Lovely to know that people who don't review like this too .:: ;) ::. I'll get around to finishing this story just as soon as I finish it, of that you can be assured. And, if you're my conscience, I dread to think what weird and wonderful things I'll be able to do now all my morals have been twisted .:: evil laugh/cough/splutter ::.
Paradox "Please continue this."– don't worry, I intend to. Ooh, you used one of the P-words! Thank you .:: :D ::. As for Vernon's reaction… I'm quite proud of that part, actually… only a few people have seemed to grasp the right 'image' of it, though… I hope you managed to see it.