Warnings: Harry Potter and Crew belong to J.K. Rowling, I
make no profit
Some of the writing may come
out disfigured, I apologize
I do not own the poem used it
belongs to Dena
L. Moore, or Shakespeare's writing
Also, I do not have a Beta
Reader for this, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes. If you find some, please
tell me in your review.
***Sigh. Well, I really have no reason to have not posted
this earlier, only that school and quarterlies suck. Big time. Mondo sucking. 2
cent whore sucking. I did not just write that. Anyway, I hope this nice big
chapter compensates for my week absence. Hopefully, school will go back to it's
not-so-evilness and I'll have more time to write
~Chapters
will be coming out once a week, every Monday, unless my muse fails me and it
takes a bit longer.~
***
Ski: Why thanks. I know I have so many
small things that I don't even notice. ^^;; Like my tenses! I've always been
told by my mom that I need to get my tenses straight. Ay me. Hopefully one day
a beta will see my story in all it's horribleness, realize I need direction,
and take me under their wing for their beta goodness! Urg..please..pplleeaassee
don't bring up the crimson tears. I know..I hate it too. Oh so much. I wrote
this at work, where I had no inspiration what so ever, and no thesaurus at
that, and crimson was the only thing that came to mind. Hell, if it irks the
author, you know somethings wrong. ^^;; Savvy! I've come to understand
that most people don't like it when you write Parseltongue with the many 'sss'.
I, myself, like the distinction between regular speech, and Parseltongue. I
think it gives it a bit of a flair. If I had to change anything about
Eadem..lastly would I change his speech. I would never take this as a flame! It's
really helpful constructive criticism, and hopefully, eventually, I'll get
around to changing the many mistakes you've found. Thanks a bunch! Enjoy.
MiniEinstein: And you're back for another round of A.N.! Don't cry..here's
a hanky. -hands tissue- But crying is good, because that means you like the
story! A lot! I'm glad you've been able to connect so well with it. And I'm
sorry, I just had to pick off one of them, and Hermione was the first. Of many.
.... .I've never had anyone try to copy my style! Most hate it..or find it
annoying to try..or just find it too hard. It's actually flattering that you've
tried. If you're ever successful, let me read, k? It must be a bit odd to read
a story that has so many turns, but that just proves that you're able to write
in so many different styles. That's a talent I have yet to find. Don't be
afraid to find your own style also. As an artist, I tend to copy other's art
and not do my own, but it's a lot more satisfying when I can do my own piece,
and fully claim it as my own.
B: Questions questions... So many I can't answer, though I wish I
could. It would give away the story! Rereading is good, helps get a better
sense, and I hope after your second try, you wont be too confused. It's awesome
that you can get into the story. So many reviewers have been saying that, but I
didn't think it was possible with my writing. Sorry for the late update, I'll
try harder! Enjoy.
Jade Mask: I had thought that something was missing, because I love
stories like this..and I couldn't find any on FF.Net! Most were evil!Harry gone
dark..but I didnt want that..so I wrote my own! It's exciting to know there are
other people out there that wanted the same things I did, and really appreciate
my work for it. Hopefully I wont dissapoint you!
Gia: -faints- Y-you!! You reviewed me!! ME!!!!
Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! ----ecstatic. I feel like a lowely peasant that has
just been talked to by the high and mighty king! Okok.. calming down. Sooooooo,
how you doin? Ehem. Right! They do scream 'slash me!' and they should be given
exactly what they want [hint hint] Alternate stories are good. Very good. We
like alternate stories. Especially if they contain some yum. Regnava Nel
Silenzio [if I haven't said already] is definitly my favorite in-progress fic
of yours. -spudders- Slash or not? Are you daft woman?! Of course it must be
slash. It just screams slashy-goodness! And besides...you have Loreena McKennit
in your story. Loreena McKennit in stories means slash. Uh huh. Rambling is
good. Appreciated greatly. And please do email me when you update! Hopefully
you'll get the internet back soon No, thank YOU for the review!
***
Chapter Eight: Serpent and Mist
Æternus Noctem
Draco took painful steps to Hermione's side, dropping to his knees once the
pain overwhelmed his senses, droplets of blood sent flying upon impact. There
was so much. So much of her life staining the cream carpets. So much out of the
veins it should be flowing through to ensure life. He gasped back a choked sob,
emotion spilling from his eyes as he looked upon her battered body, seeingless
eyes. He never wished it to be so. In all his years, covered in dark, shielded
in animosity from the brilliant minds in his ignorance, never. Never had he
wished such a demise from such a pure heart. Hermione...
Draco's eyes caught the candlelight, age seemingly old
as he looked into the blank stare of his broken friend. Muscles tensed as
thoughts races through his mind, whispered voices once again promising relief
such as they had during his fight. Relief...if he just gave in. Whispering his
sorrow, Draco closed his eyes and surrendered.
"Oh Helkoreiel," with renewed vigor was Hermione
pulled into a fierce hug; cradled, her soaked body resting against his heart.
"I fear I have come too late. The the battle has raged and we have lost, that
you have fallen... Smitten by the enemy that would you dead." Silver eyes
roamed around her face, hoping for an inkling to her survival, hoping against
hope. "What fate? What cruelty has come so great that these eyes, once shining
crystals, may flitter no more, heedless of my sorrow?"
A soft glow danced around the slumped forms of Draco
and Hermione, the once dark room alighted with the millions of throbbing heart
beats lead by the light. A mist, created as if a foreshadowing fog was encased
so, parted from the cloud formation of light, stretching from Draco's back. It
swayed with the beating of the unheard drums, instinct of nature's creatures
dancing upon the ground that held them aloft, pounding out their sorrow so that
they may not carry such a trivial burden. Subtle movements used in testing it's
survival, the wisp of cloud saw it's departure from Draco's being with a pull
of strength, and with it's departure, the dissipation of all angelic light. Into
Hermione's body Draco unknowingly led it, probing through, and overlapping,
wounds which had not healed. For the dagger, ungodly made, nature used, was a
force led only from the destruction of Alkhuan's heart, no purpose served by
death to all that met it's wrath.
A single shudder, seen to none by a Watcher, startled
Draco out of his morbid concentration. For he had felt the faint flutter of
fingers moved. Fingers which traced the soft cloth to which they rested.
Fingers which were not his own. Startled so by the unexpected, Draco lifted his
head to gaze into the face of Hermione; pale white of Death's hand, rolling of
eyes behind closed lids. He jumped to, the time would be short lived, brief
this occasion of Hermione's chance of survival. He laid her body upon the soft
carpet, turning his own to face Ron and Blaise, yet eyes surveying every stir
of Hermione's wrinkled brow.
"Brilhen, Culram, help me. Yet she lives!" Draco
reached his arm back, beckoning his friend's forward, unconsciously unlocking
them from their magical binds. Ron and Blaise rose, ivy torn from arms and legs
as they hurried across the room to drop besides their companions.
"Hope remains while we still live. I had forgotten,
wrapped in grief so. Gone may her body be, yet strong is her spirit." Draco
faced Blaise, seated to his right side; friend holding back a sharp intake of
breath as sharp gray eyes faced black. This was not the same person who Blaise
grew with. Changed was the friend he once knew, changed in appearance, for his
eyes held hidden knowledge, his face hardened from it's once boyish appeal,
sculpted; the smooth porcelain of a Greek statue chiseled out of human flesh.
"Open your mouth, Brilhen, and we may still have a
chance." Draco looked to Blaise, puzzled by his friend's stare and lack of
response. "Have you forgotten already? Open your mouth!"
Blaise slowly brought his dry lips apart, Draco's
fingers unexpectedly thrusting his mouth open further as they reached in.
Blaise's eyes widened as he panicked, struggling for breath, Draco holding his
body still.
"Relax, I need only a piece. Just a piece will
suffice." Draco looked to Blaise, questioning his reactions as his fingers
slowly retreated from the moist cavern. His mind went blank with concentration,
needing to focus so that everything would happen perfectly.
Blaise felt a slight tugging, wanting to fight the
foreign sensation, yet not knowing how. Eyes closed in pain as Draco ripped a
silver ribbon from within, holding it tight between his fingers as it fought to
be freed from his grasp. He held it momentarily before placing it upon the open
wound of Hermione's arm, forcing it to be imprinted onto her flesh. Seconds
later, the string latched into the severed skin around it, creating a binding
between pieces before it worked internally to heal.
Chest would and arm trauma smoothed with the healing
of bodily injuries. Faint were the scars present, seen to none but those who
knew where to look for it. And yet Hermione stirred not, her soul still not
connected to her body though it was healed to perfection. Draco challenged Ron
to move as he turned to the Fire Element beside him, whom was oddly complacent
as he watched Blaise being cut of his own soul. Ron nodded in understanding,
opening his mouth only to have Draco close it.
"It must be more." Ron quivered slightly, looking to
Hermione, who for all her blood tinged clothing, had no sign of ever being
harmed. She was so close, he could feel it, yet needed was a bridge to allow
her soul to enter back into her body with perfect harmony. Like before....Ron
shook his head, pushing aside the unknown thoughts of battle fields and
Hermione's death. Surely this was the first time she had died?
Draco smiled in appreciation as Ron closed his eyes in
submission, Hermione's life counting on his understanding. Fingers delicately
massaged Ron's brow, feeling for a sign only Draco knew to look for. Ghosting
over smooth skin near his eyebrows, Draco held his fingers still as he thrust
them into Ron's mind. Ron's eyes flew open as he felt Draco's hand pushing it's
way through the strings of his mind, halting once they found his core being.
Gently, ever so gently, did Draco bring his hand from Ron, grasped within it a
ball of silver strings, light so brilliant eyes closed in shielding. They
fought within themselves, chaotic tendrils reaching to connect once again with
Ron, pulled closer and closer to Hermione with every second that passed.
Pulling them within himself, Draco imagined a bridge, finding Hermione's soul
resting above her body, connecting the two through Ron's gift.
Blaise looked to Hermione, gasping when he saw the
outline of a silver bridge form, roots from hidden trees springing up to form
the path which she would walk, marking's of gods and devils, life and loss
forming along the wood held aloft. Blinking so that he knew he would not
imagining it, Blaise could only stare in astonishment as Hermione formed before
him, eyes closed and hands held to her chest as he started her journey between
planes. Yet before him was not the Hermione he had previously known. Before him
was a beauty unlike any other, hair flowing behind her as she took her first
steps, gown covering her pearly body, curves not to go unnoticed as a breeze
was hurled against her. She stopped in her walk, eyes blinking open as unseen
creatures blocked her path, hands held before her in a silent prayers, strength
to overcome and conquer, strength to live again. The symbols of life and gods
flared brilliantly as her mouth moved in a chant, calling all the forces within
her grasp. Strain as he might, Blaise could not hear a word uttered, for
Hermione still remained beyond his worldly plain, body seen only through the
will of Ron.
And so had she come, so had she left. Blaise watched
as she disappeared from view, despair whelming inside him as he thought all was
lost; ghostly bridge unraveling, roots pulled back to their mighty trees as
they were no longer needed. He sighed in his utter loss of hope, fearing that
Hermione could no longer return to them by any means.
"Hermione.." Ron whispered with awe, body laid before
him glowing with ungodly light, eyes opening. She smiled at him, face
untroubled with the torments she had just gone through. Yet she too had
changed, but not as so strongly as Draco and Harry. He noticed upon her, an
innate beauty which shown outwards, her body beyond pleasant to look upon, her
face held with an Elven affinity about it.
"Ron," she whispered out, voice harmonious as
Alkhuan's, calling Ron to do anything she bid him, yet not wanting to fight the
calling as he had Alkhuan's. She was pure, elegantly untainted in her change,
connected in such a way that held her higher than Alkhuan, more completed, less
disturbed. She had willingly sought change, not been forced upon it aside from
Alkhuan's actions. "And Maegcair..." Her hazel eyes shone with relief as they
rested upon Draco. "We meet again. When I had not encountered your essence, it
worried me so. Yet here you are, before me."
"It has been a long journey, time not taking kindly to
us. I was close to resurfacing, yet somehow I was able to escape before my
time. For it had been you prophesied to return first, lead all to
redemption." Draco, Maegcair to Hermione, looked upon the faces of Blaise and
Ron, sympathizing with their confusion, hoping to explain all to the boys.
Boys he hadn't noticed they still were. "They remain the same. Is it safe
to let them know, or..?"
"Not yet. Not while the pain of loss if still too
deep. Help me stand, this body is still too new to me." Hermione reached her
delicate hands to Draco's, standing upon remarkably unshaky legs for the first
time. She looked to Ron, her dear friend, smiling though he looked at her in
trepidation. "Ron you are known as?" He nodded, wanting to back away, hoping
that no head trauma was dealt in bringing her back. "Well Ron, I am Lady
Helkoreiel, or Hermione, as you may be more familiar with calling me. Maegcair,
would you awaken yourself now, for I would like to remember my ties to these
friends of ours?"
Maegcair nodded in consent, eyes closing as he fought
with himself to hold him, and yet the boy Draco which he resided in. They had
to merge, needed to, if he were to survive. It wasn't his time, he knew, but he
couldn't Sleep again, that being foreseen and established only by the Head of
the Order, no other capable of Resting his Soul. Yet he, and Helkoreiel, could
banish themselves to the farthest regions of their Chosen's souls, giving up
their identities to intermingle with their Chosen, coming forth only when they
were prophesied to. It was this which they needed to accomplish. No longer
would they exist, but part of their Chosen they would become. Two souls in one
being. There was no other way.
Maegcair reached inside himself as he felt Helkoreiel
do, reaching out to cradle their Chosen, bringing them out of hiding an into
consciousness. He fought with all his might, almost slipping, yet successfully
copying himself into Draco's essence, knowing he would only be the second half,
and the boy the full being. Erasing himself was the price he was willing to
take, knowing the Draco had to grow from being a boy into a man before he could
call upon Maegcair to take over. With one last fleeting thought of staying,
Maegcair sent all his memories into Draco, thus destroying himself.
Draco opened his eyes to find himself lying on the
floor. Blaise leaned over him, having been worried as he watched his friend cry
out in agony, crumpling to the floor. "Blaise...what?" Draco's eyes widened in
surprise as his friend embraced him in a hug, a cry of relief the only
indication given before he was pulled against the warm chest of Blaise.
"It's you..again. I was so worried, you were
gone...surely Alkhuan would have killed you..but then, oh Draco, you're you!"
"What are you..oh. Oh! Hermione!" Draco struggled out
of Blaise's arms, turning to look where he last remembered his friend laying
for all worldly purposes, dead. He saw Ron holding onto Hermione's hand,
pleading with her to wake. Draco rushed to her side, hoping she wasn't dead as
she looked when he last fought with Alkhuan. Hoping she was somehow saved. Eyes
blinked open as Hermione's hand flew to her head, holding back a groan of pain
he knew she would surely feel. But how had she lived? Where were her wounds?
Hermione looked into the worried faces around her,
seeking out Draco's. "Oh, Draco! I remembered.. Lady Helkoreiel..she was.." A
tear streamed down her face as Hermione recalled the Lady's parting words, her
elegant voice soothing all her fears, gentle lips kissing her forehead as would
a mother. "She died. For me. For us!" Draco nodded sadly, memories surfacing of
what had occurred, yet no surprise he felt. Everything was..perfect.
He smiled to her reassuringly, knowing she would
understand the sacrifice in due time, knowing she would forget about it soon
enough. She hugged Ron to her, happy to be reunited with the friends she
had almost lost forever, not even having said her partings. Blaise tensed
almost uncomfortably as Hermione pulled him against her, thanking him for
helping to bring him back.
"Thank you, Draco. If you hadn't remembered I would
have..well.." She averted her eyes from his, knowing that it had all been so
sudden. Death creeping around her even as she was again reaquanted with
friends, Death always hidden, lurking unknown. How farfetched it had seemed
only hours ago that it could all end so sudden.. all end because of one
person.. "HARRY!" she cried out, jumping to her feet, trying to rid herself of
Ron who held her back. He knew though she was healed, she couldn't properly
move about so freely with all of her blood loss.
"Where is Harry?" Hermione's eyes searched the room
for her friend, not knowing what happened, what the outcome of his present
attained. Surely they had been able to help him? She looked for any sign, eyes
halting on the crushed wall, body strewn beneath it, unmoving. "Harry!" she
cried out desperately, Ron letting her go as she ran to his side.
They held back momentarily, all having witnessed the
battle, all knowing that he had been destroyed from Draco's attack. All having
felt it within themselves. Yet Draco couldn't help but feel torn as he watched
Hermione pull Harry onto her lap, coaxing him out of slumber as her tears fell
upon his face, bathing him of the blood spilled coating it. Ignoring that it
was her own blood he had spilled that adorned him so. There was no possible way
that Harry had come out unharmed from the attack, no possible way at all! Draco
sighed as he sat opposite Hermione, eyes staring at Harry's smooth skin, again
the pale skin so resembling Harry they had known, changed from the tan one the
creature Alkhuan had. And no longer had Harry the wings that Alkhuan had
possessed, his own black ones the only present against his back. Draco couldn't
help himself from trailing his eyes along Harry's body, noticing that much of
the muscles he had occupied stayed with him, yet still he looked delicate and
fragile, not aire of power radiating off him as Alkhuan had. The clothing
remained, though Draco could assume that such clothing was not a personal
change so much as outward magic effecting objects. Still could Draco see
Harry's creamy chest through the opened shirt. Lifting his eyes upwards
immediately, Draco looked into the troubled eyes of Hermione, tears still
running fresh.
"What happened here?" She looked to her three
companions beside her, all heads cast to the side, eyes avoiding hers, none
wanting to tell her the truth, ruin her hope. "What happened? Why is
Harry..how?"
"He killed you, Hermione. And I was able to free
myself from my restraints. We fought, I won. That is all." Draco stared at the
cloth he rubbed between his fingers, not able to stand looking into Hermione's
disbelieving eyes.
"But..but I saw him! He's alive! I know he is.." she
looked to Harry, fingers trailing along his cheek. "Wake up..please.."
"You.. saw him? How?" Ron looked to Hermione, focusing
his gaze then to his fallen friend, not understanding how she could see Harry.
She had been killed before Alkhuan was defeated.
"In death." The whisper was barely audible, but it
reached Ron's ears, and he could do no more than stare at Hermione, who now
avoided contact with his eyes.
"Death?" Blaise questioned, disbelieving. There was no
possible way..none whatsoever.
"I saw him. As I walked down the stairs, it came to
me, that if I walked far enough, struggled enough, I would find Harry at the
end of my journey...locked, chained, to a wall, defeated and slumped. It would
take forever, they told me, but I knew I could save him, help him to escape. He
wasn't dead, yet he was trapped in Death. He could only be saved with help."
She looked to Blaise, begging him to believe her. It wasn't a dream. Hermione
knew she had died, knew she had ventured into the boarders of a different
Realm. As she descended the golden stairs, light vanishing with every step,
Harry had stood before her, naked, beaten, his aura paling as he fought for
freedom. And he had looked into her eyes..pleaded with her, begged, without
words, for her help. But Hermione hadn't the time to save him before Draco
started the ritual to bring her back. Then had she met Lady Helkoreiel...the
Lady..
"Was he ok? Where in Death was he? Surely he is coming
back?" Draco clasped her hands in his own, drawing her attention away from her
gathering memories and into the troubles that surrounded her now. Shaking her
head, Hermione gazed into his troubled orbs, trying to answer his questions
without voicing them. It was too soon..still too fresh in their minds...
"No.." Draco shook his head, denying her answers.
Harry couldn't be lost! Couldn't have met demise by his own hand.. No, Draco
couldn't have killed Harry. Not Harry..
"I'm so sorry, Draco.." Hermione reached her hand to
comfort Draco, but he pulled back, rising from his seat, denying her still. She
knew it would happen, hadn't understood how, but knew that Draco would blame
himself if Harry never returned. If he was truly dead. But he couldn't be! If
he had fallen after her, and she had reached Death, started her journey, met
him, saw him, all when he fell, surely he was still alive? It just didn't make
sense to her. He had to be alive..there had to be hope.
"Ron!" Hermione's voice startled him out of his inward
contemplation. Raising his face to acknowledge her, Hermione's intense eyes
shook him to his core. "Get Snape. Now!"
"But Hermione.." Ron tried to reason with her. Harry
was dead, he could feel it, they all could feel it. When Draco had let loose
the light arrows, he had watched as they struck Harry all over, right through
his heart. He had felt the arrow destroy Harry's body, had felt life slip from
Harry's fingers, had felt his death. And yet Hermione dared to raise all of
their hope, claiming Harry lived when all she based it on was her delusions as
she lay dying, stuck between plains? It was unfair to them, wounds so deep, so
new. And he was stretching them farther until one of them snapped.
"Get Snape now. Trust me. Please?"
Ron ignored Blaise's incredulous stare as he rose,
knowing that he would ultimately regret doing Hermione's bidding by bringing
Snape into their situation. Looking around the room at all the destruction,
blood, loose magic, open windows, soaked furniture from the rain, Ron knew
something would happen when Snape walked through the door. Their very lives
would change so drastically once Snape saw what Ron still couldn't come to
terms with. What would Snape do when he saw the body imprint where Hermione had
laid, what he would say when his eyes fell upon Harry, soaked in his own blood,
millions of wounds, pale as Death? Shaking such thoughts from his head, Ron
stepped back, turning in his step, walking with all the weight of his friend's
eyes boring into his back, stepping over the threshold with pain, then running
as if Devils were at his very heals, to Snape's room.
"Why, Hermione?" Draco, huddled in the corner, trying
to distance himself from his friend, the friend he killed; whispered his
protest to Hermione. She narrowed her eyes at his ruined composition, loss and
submission present on his face, forlorn and in despair.
"Because I believe," she stated. Wiping tears from her
eyes, Hermione pulled Harry off her lap, lying him on the ground where she
started to unbutton his shirt. Her fingers stilled as strong tan ones helped
her in ridding Harry of his clothes, yet thankful that Blaise was coherent
enough to be able to help her in this desperate situation. Shirt pulled back,
all of Harry's wounds were present, blood soaked against his white skin, such a
contrast only too beautiful to look upon, yet a twisted painting made to
display the beauty they saw. Such surrealism seamed fake, seemed that it was
not Harry lying beside them, not his blood drying on their clothes, not his
dead body beneath their fingers.
Hermione brought her wand to her fingers, amazingly
still intact, cleaning all blood from his skin. No longer could they perform
such a ritual as Draco had on her, too many lacerations adjourning Harry's
frame, to be sealed with only the three of them. But Snape could help. Hermione
knew not how, only that he was a key to their success. For had he not given
Harry the potion to help him, even though he knew not what troubled Harry so?
He could help if only to let Harry reside in a new environment, away from such
a taint as the room held, such unrestricted magic that was left after the
intense battle.
Hermione gazed ahead of her, eyes watching battles
fought, watching herself vanquish foe that stood against her. "Tempora
mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis." [1]
Blaise looked to her, watching her eyes take a hallow
change, knowing she was lost inside her memories, but of what, he could not
guess. She had been through so much. Her, Draco, and Harry. How had they
changed so? From friends he knew so well, to foreign beings that radiated power
and confidence, all somehow connected to each other? Yet, how had Hermione and
Draco remained true to his side, while Harry's new persona had tried to kill
them? It didn't make sense..none of it did. If they could change, why hadn't he
changed? Why hadn't Ron? And who where they changing in to? It disturbed him to
a point to know that there was another who could manipulate and control him,
another to share his body.
Blaise clutched Harry's cloak between his fingers. The
wounds were healed, having been done so by Hermione. Yet there remained no
change in Harry. His body still pale a snow, face unmoving. A deep calm had overcome
him, an understanding, though he could not give voice to it, that all was over.
He blinked his eyes to focus, his gasp of surprise startling Hermione out of
herself. Where once was nothing, now Eadem moved, showing his presence by
climbing up his master's body, looking into the face of his Other. Was Harry
alive, for Eadem to still stay by his side?
Hermione stared, transfixed, by the snakes presence.
Eadem had remained by Harry even when he was Alkhuan, knowing that there was
chance to save Harry. And here he remained, knowing that there was still a
chance to save Harry. "Eadem.." Hermione looked into the eyes of the snake,
somehow knowing that everything would be fine. Knowing that Eadem could bring
Harry back. But only if they had help, help of a higher privilege then
themselves. For though they were accomplished magicians, Eadem needed the hand
of a Master, one who knew the waves of magic through years of experience, one
like Harry. Hermione shifted as Eadem's eyes remained locked on her body, not
understanding his curiosity with her. He spared no glance to Blaise, needing
not look to him to know there had been no change. Could he see that she
remembered herself in a previous lifetime?
The door to the corridor was flung open, menacing figure
blocking the entryway as a shadow outline was seen through what little light
illuminated the room. Snape stepped cautiously into the room, eyes flitting all
over as he took in the situation Ron had prepared him for. Never had he assumed
such destruction as he saw before him. Death hung in the air, a smell familiar
to him through his long years as a Death Eater; the scent perpetrating all his
senses, casting his eyes to search for the loss of life. Before him sat
Hermione, covered in what he could only guess was her own blood, and that of
the body that lay next to her. Blaise was unharmed, not having been in any
situation that entailed his hurt. Yet Draco was gone, unnoticed in the shadows
under Snape's keen eyes.
Snape understood what had come to pass. As much as it
had been drilled into his head by the Headmaster, he never thought he would
live to see the day that an Ancient was reawakened. He gazed into the changed
appearance of Harry, knowing that though he seemed himself, he had been
awakened by a greater force from inside. His hand reached into his robe,
a black box pulled out, reflecting millions of colors around the room in it's
brilliance. Taking careful aim not to make the Ancient aware, Snape triggered
the box, pushing once side in and throwing it above the defeated Harry, it's
sides caving in on itself, all that was left being the millions of colors
centered in one present sphere. Hermione and Blaise jumped back as lights shot
out from the circle, creating a cage around the still Harry. Lightening rods
shot out to encircle him, recognizing his presence as the great threat it was
needed for. No movement was seen from Harry as electricity coursed through his
body, waves of it pulsing in his veins. Draco cried out as he watched Harry's
body pumped of lightening, bars created by the mysterious light trapping Harry
in, keeping him out.
As Harry's body lay unmoving, the light halted in it's
flashing upon the fallen boy of it's victim. The lightening bolts retracted
into the beautiful rainbow sphere hovering over the scene, black walls coming
out of nowhere to enclose the sphere in a cage and ensure it's safety; floating
back into Snape's outstretched hand. With a simply flick of his wand and a
command, the limp form floated into the air, following behind Snape as he
walked to his own room. Draco, Hermione and Blaise walked behind their fallen
friend, hoping for the best. If he ever reawoke, then they would know if their
companion was still changed, or back to the friend they cared for so.
Stopping in front of the portrait, the two waited for
Snape to mutter the password so that they may enter. Upon walking into the
room, they found Eadem silently awaiting them on the bed, leaning over Harry as
he was placed on the bed. Settling himself on Harry's chest and concentrating,
Eadem began to heal Harry and return him to his previous being. Snape watched
on with sympathy in his eyes, seeing the four children huddled around Harry's
bed, hoping he would still survive. He knew there was nothing left, he had
given his all. If the box could not bring Harry back to the living, he knew not
what could.
"Professor, will he live?" Hermione gazed into his
eyes, her hope making him wish it were not his burden to be connected so to
these five students.
"Omnia vincit amor,"[2] he replied, exiting the room
to find the answers they all sought.
Serpent and Mist
Red-horned serpent,
I cast you from my dreams
Where you revel in my broken tears
And bathe in my pain.
I lie awake in your arms,
Your sobs rack my conscience
With insecure nightmares:
I run--
Hidden emotion will arise at will
As it is wont to do, as you channel it through me.
I lie asleep in your arms,
Your chest damp with my blood,
My sweat of our unbidden union,
That fragile, slipping essence of merged souls
Outlawed in disgrace.
You hide--
So we lie face to face,
Nose touching nose, one-eyed cyclops
Cringing in the sheltered circle
Of our hand-fasted mourning bliss.
You do not trust the power of the universe
To support that which is fated,
The clock-work movement of the stars.
I curse--
And you take my hand in your dark shadow,
Writing words without permanence
In the hollow of my palm; words of love,
Words of destiny, trust, passion--
Hope. A false hope that gathered dew
In the early watch of the dawn.
We lie face to face, serpent and mist,
While I cast you out of the shadows
And into the sea.
Dena L. Moore
December 7, 2001
***********
[1] "Tempora
mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis." - Times are changing, and we
are changing with them
[2] "Omnia vincit
amor." - love conquers all
**********
Sorry for the delay!!!!!