Veneficus Amicus
By Nu Rho
Bottomless orange eyes stared ahead, taking in the bustle of frenzied humans. From the safety of the trees, the serpent could evenly take in all that happened on the opposite side of the silvery lake. The students were of no great concern to him personally, but he studied them anyway, as he wondered what it was one would miss from such a place. The boy hadn't said he missed this place of human dwelling, hadn't said he wished to return, hadn't brought it up at all. That's what had brought the snake here tonight while all the boy knew was that his friend's wings needed a good stretch. Harry's complete lack of mention of this place he had once called home was what brought Manyara to the conclusion that he missed it dearly.
And that's why the serpent was here. Watching the wizards and witches sort themselves into boats and sail slowly over the glistening lake towards their school. Manyara had never had a companion. He wasn't even sure why he had felt compelled to save the falling boy that night, but he was glad he had. Now, knowing that he had a friend in this young boy, a comrade, he didn't want to see him aching over the loss of something so trifling as this silly school for wizards. Wizards who could not even perform raw magic. Wizards who knew little of life other than the cold specter war, having grown in an age of fear and darkness ever hovering over their shoulders and breathing down their necks. Amicus--as had become a second name for the boy over the time since he had fallen from the sky--did not need this world of petty conflict and flaw. He did not deserve to be anyone's pawn in this tarnished game of fault, and Manyara would not leave him to it.
Growing angered over such oppressing thoughts, the serpent had decided to dwell here no longer, when something caught his attention and he turned back towards the lake, craning his neck out over the glassy surface for a better view. He recognized that boy. It was another wizard, his Amicus's friend from the night the serpent had saved the young Gryffindor from the impending branches of his forest home.
He watched the boy run around the lake, unnoticed by the others save two, who trailed behind him. Manyara was immediately suspicious. Harry was a brilliant young man, and there was no reason why the serpent should not be wary of any rescue attempts, especially because he supposed the elder wizard Dumbledore would want him back. He had heard word in the forest that the grey trees had been searched for and that the searchers were seeking help wherever they could, but the creatures of the grey forest had raised their noses and laughed menacingly. Even those who knew that the Potter boy was indeed residing under their trees, he had caused no harm, only living by the rules of the forest. He hunted when he needed food, he drank when his throat parched, and he slept when his body tired. The creatures had no reason to help the humans in their futile hunt for the boy.
Manyara found himself narrowing his eyes at the old headmaster hatefully, and shook his head, sighing. He was becoming far too possessive of the boy as well as paranoid, he knew, but that man had caused his friend too many hardships.
Deciding it about time he took his leave, the snake finally turned and lifted into the sky, gracefully and silently fading into the distance. A moment passed before a satisfied smirk rose to his eyes as he knew that he did not have to worry about finding his forest home as the wizards did. No, the forest was his blood home, he had made it so many years ago when he was still a young snake, hardly six feet long and tired after only a mile's flight. How weak he had been. But what a magnificent animal he was now, that was not to be denied.
He sighed as he saw the shaded trees ahead and the ethereal tendrils of magic that clung to the branches and weaved deftly around every rock, plant, and fissure of bark. Normal human eyes could not see such magic, but to him it was a welcome sight and a familiar feeling. Soon enough he would be home with his friend and could forget about his worries because all that really matters is that life be lived and lived well.
- - - - -
"Granger, honestly! Come on, we don't have all night!"
The voice reached her, but she only half heard what the blonde boy was yelling to her. Hermione was too busy narrowing her eyes at a distant shape. She had thought she saw something when they were first getting off the train, but had quickly forgotten about it at the mention of Harry. Now, however, she was positive. There had definitely been something large on the far side of the lake, and now it was in the sky.
She squinted her eyes farther, willing her sight to reach out and make out a more specific shape, but from this distance, in this darkness, it was useless. All she knew was that there had been something there, and now it had gone.
"Granger!!" She heard the irritated voice again and blinked, moving slowly towards the source of the sound without taking her eyes off the horizon.
"I'm coming, already..." Turning finally, Hermione hurried off after Draco, who ushered her and Ron into the castle in front of him, glancing just once, curiously, over his shoulder to where his accomplice-to-be had been staring a moment before. Not seeing anything, he exhaled quietly with narrowed eyes, and pulled the doors closed behind him before turning toward the others to begin explaining himself.
- - - - -
Harry took a deep breath of the cool night air. He did not smell the saccharine scents of Hermione's vanilla candles burning in the common room, tickling his nostrils, or the familiar hint of the soft leather couches by a crackling fire after a rough day of Quidditch. Closing his eyes, he could not feel the rough texture of his favorite Weasley-jumper, could hardly even imagine it there on his skin with the present chill night air of the forest. He could only imagine the warm, welcoming ambiance of the room where he slept in the bed beside his best friend's, curled up in the crimson sheets where he would some nights lie awake in the comforting folds of the fabric. Could only imagine the silken feel of his father's invisibility cloak, memories of which seemed so far away. He remembered sneaking out with his two best friends, midnight strolls through the sleeping castle, evading the perpetually menacing Mr. Filch and his ever ominous cat Mrs. Norris (this brought a brief smile to his otherwise saddened face), fooling his nemesis Draco in the snow outside the Shrieking Shack...
He sighed quietly and stared languidly ahead. He almost wished he could apologize to his old enemy. Apologize for what? For sticking up for his friends? For sticking up for himself? No. He wished he could explain to the other boy how wrong they all had been. Fighting all these years. Where was the point in it all? What were they ever getting at? It was such a waste of time. And a perfectly good waste of effort that could have been put into trying to create a friendship. If not, then at least an alliance, peace, and understanding. It was all too late for that now. Harry doubted if he'd ever see any of those people ever again. They were all a part of his past, a part of another life, just as much as his fading reminiscences of a happy day with a couple of carefree comrades. Now it was just himself and Manyara. And as wonderful as that was, he feared he would miss his past life; his impossible-to-return-to past life, now obscured forever by war and darkness.
Taking another deep breath, he noted what he could smell. His nose caught the metallic scent of the warm blood spilled over his hands, making his fingers unpleasantly sticky. The deer carcass limp in his hands as he cut away at the animal's flesh would have disgusted him in the past, it would have made him feel like a killer, but living in the woods gave a being certain rights, and living here for already over a week gave a being certain tolerance to otherwise inhumane actions. Searching past the scent of death, Harry picked up the pleasant aroma of a small fire, crackling over collapsing charcoal. Manyara had taught him to use his wandless magic to create one of the hovering balls of fire that would follow him around until it finally burned out, but Harry liked the smell of burning wood. It reminded him of winter at Hogwarts, and brought back the restful, alluring sensation of the Yule holidays and biting snow followed by warm hot cocoa or butterbeer shared with his housemates.
He sniffed quietly and his eyes blurred despite the presence of his glasses. No, he didn't miss his old home. Not one bit.
- - - - -
"YOU WHAT?!"
Draco sighed. Apparently his little spell on Ron had worn off. "Ron, plea--"
"YOU DROPPED HIM??"
"Ron, quiet!" Hermione tried, even though Draco could tell from her expression, that she was furious as well. Shifting her gaze back to the Slytherin, Hermione continued. "So where is he? If this happened nearly fifteen days ago, then why are you telling us now? Don't tell me you didn't find him!"
Draco was running short on patience with the two of them accusing him and now Hermione trying to be stern with him. "Well, it's not like I did it on purpose... Loosing him will ruin my chances with the Order."
"Oh, like you really wanna join the order..." Ron accused, glancing over Draco distastefully.
"Ron, please," Hermione insisted again. She sighed heavily and crossed her arms, glaring up at the taller blonde. "Alright, Draco, what do you want us to do?" She lifted an impatient eyebrow.
The Slytherin shook his head, correcting her. "Not 'us', you. I don't want the weasel to do anything. He'd botch it all up." He narrowed his eyes at the steaming red-head and wrinkled his nose sordidly.
Hermione rolled her eyes and spoke up before Ron could start shouting again. "Alright, then, what do you want me to do?"
Draco just knitted his brow, shook his head, and shrugged. "I don't know, help? You're always on about how much you know." He paused when both her eyebrows went up and she pursed her lips disapprovingly. "Well? What do you know?"
Hermione rolled her eyes again in her 'you boys are so ignorant' fashion--which the Slytherin didn't appreciate very much at all--and glanced around the hall as if she could find an answer in the stone walls. "Well, you say you lost him over a forest, right? Well, the only forest arou--"
"But we've already been over the route Potter and I were on, and we didn--"
The young witch shot up a hand in Draco's face, making him lean back quickly to avoid getting swatted in the nose. "Let me finish," she stated sternly. "The only forest around is the Forbidden Forest. I read something somewhere... Oh, what was it??" She paused, chewing on her lower lip.
Draco huffed and crossed his arms. "Well, this is a great help."
He was silently reprimanded with a sharp glare from Hermione. "We should walk to the forest and see what we can find there," she concluded with a nod.
"The forest?? But I--"
"Shut up, we're going to the forest." With that, Hermione grabbed both boys by the collars of their shirts and dragged them back outside. Draco looked disgusted and appalled, voicing this as he was dragged across the property, but Ron looked pretty used to it, and just grinned at Draco's protesting.
- - - - -
Manyara landed silently nearby, but despite the lack of even the rustling of leaves, Harry knew he was back. He had gotten used to the presence of the snake, and somehow knew when he wasn't alone anymore. He finally heard his friend as he slithered gracefully over to him. Harry was just finishing pulling off the skin of the deer and he let the serpent take the meat and begin to cook it, enlarging his mediocre fire.
"You got a lot done quickly. You are improving, Amicus," Manyara stated. It was a simple compliment, and Harry appreciatedit because they were not given too often. One of the beauties of their friendship was the honesty between them, and Harry knew that a compliment, even a simple one as such, was a compliment his companion meant.
He smiled, glancing at his friend. "Thanks, Yara."
The serpent nodded with a returned smile and went on to soak the venison in a rough cauldron with some herbs the two had set aside earlier that evening.
They ate in near-silence that night, each with too much on their mind to try and keep up a conversation. As long as Harry wore that distant look in his eyes, Manyara could not bring himself to act unconcerned and pretend like his friend could simply drop his past life completely and remain here in the forest. The serpent didn't want to give the young wizard up, but he would rather Harry be happy.
He knew. He would try. Harry had mentioned flying and Manyara had put the thought out of his head until now, other thoughts seeming more important at the time. But now, he would try to make Harry smile and he would try to make Harry want to stay. He couldn't help thinking that the wizard would make a wonderful spark snake and the thought brought a brief smile to his narrow features. It would be better, once they could fly together. All the boy needed was time and a little more experience and explorationwithin the forest, just so he knew that he was indeed welcome to stay, and that he did have a place here.
The next few hours the two spent scrubbing the deer pelt to add to Harry's collection in the cave. When the Gryffindor had mentioned his inability to sleep on the coarse, uneven stone flooring of their home, Manyara had suggested the furs as a bed. "Right good way to put them to use rather than waste them," he had mused, and since then, they had cleaned and saved the coats of the various animals they ate, and thrown them into Harry's sleeping corner, making for an impossibly warm, cozy bed. Harry had plenty enough by now, a full six well-sized pelts gathered over the past fourteen nights. This seventh, Harry insisted, was for Manyara.
"Listen, I know you don't need it, but you're getting it anyway! It's better, I promise. And if you really don't like them, then you can go back to your rocks, okay?" Harry lifted his eyebrows with a grin, trying to persuade the serpent to keep some pelts for himself.
The serpent sighed and lowered his head, gazing up at his friend as he crossed his arms. "Alright, I'll give the damn furs a try," he replied with a smirk. "But if I'm coughing up fur balls in the morning, it's your fault."
Harry scoffed playfully and nodded. "Alright."
"And then we cut them up and make you some winter clothing," Manyara added, his brotherly concern for the young wizard surfacing again. "It'll be getting cold again soon and we can't have you freezing to death." The fire in his eyes flickered humorously and for the time being, their troubles were forgotten.
They finished cleaning the pelt, then carried it into the cave and talked a little about what the following evening would bring before they drifted off to sleep, both curled up comfortably on their beds of fur.
Manyara's last conscious thought was that tomorrow evening would indeed be eventful, and he hoped that what he had in store for his friend would make the boy happy.
End Chapter the Fifth
A/N: Another chapter done! ::yawn:: Time for sleep, it's way past my bed time. XP btw, California Smells Funny, I did not make up spark snakes, though I do wish I had, they're a nifty species. Actually, I love snakes, and am completely obsessed with wings (and tails, but that's beside the point... and soymilk which is completely beside the point). Anywhos, I was curious if there was such a creature already in 'existence' so I searched in some creature encyclopedias, and sure enough, Spark Snake was in there, so. There we go. Till next time! Cheerio!