Harry was still fuming when he got to the Gryffindor common room. Not
fancying going back up to bed, he slumped down on one of the sofas and
stared into the glowing flames of the fire there.
He really couldn't get over Snape's lack of gratitude – sure the man hated him, but he had just saved his life, surely that at least deserved a thank you? But then again it was Snape that he was talking about. Storm's behaviour was more puzzling. What had possessed her to go into Snape's chambers and tear them up like that? Normally she just wanted to be outside, not causing huge amounts of destruction in teacher's living quarters. Perhaps Snape deserved it after the way he had been treating her. It was a vicious circle, Snape hurts Storm, so Storm gets revenge, so Snape hates her more and hurts her more. Snape should count himself lucky that Harry was there to save him.
Harry often sat alone at night like this, he wouldn't have moved at all if it hadn't been to check on Storm, just staring into the flames. He found it strangely soothing to watch the flame's chaotic, leaping dance.
He never admitted to anyone why he had so much trouble sleeping, especially this year. It had been the same since Cedric's death. His headaches were getting worse and his scar always hurt when he woke, and more often than not he felt the cold sweats of terror all over his body. He was having nightmares, and, what's worse, he knew that they weren't just figments of his imagination. Voldemort was gaining power, but he wasn't ready to announce himself just yet. There was a death almost every night, but minor deaths, not enough to draw attention to himself. But every time someone died Harry felt a part of himself die with them, just like his parents. Voldemort was just consolidating his power and broadening his alliances.
Harry needed to speak to someone, to pour his heart out, but he didn't know who. Dumbledore would have been his first choice, of course, but the old man already had so much to contend with and his own alliances to make. He couldn't even talk to Ron and Hermione, they'd just worry over him and tell him to speak to Dumbledore.
If anyone he wanted to talk to Sirius... or Storm. Now there was an idea. Storm had experienced enough pain and suffering to at least partly understand what he was going through. The more he thought about it he realised that was what he really wanted – not someone to fuss over him or pity him, just someone to understand. Storm's depth of feeling had touched the boy when he had spoken to her early that morning and he finally thought he'd found someone he could lean on without any thought of it backfiring.
But, he thought bitterly, he wouldn't have any chance of finding her tonight when he most needed her – it was doubtful if she'd reappear before morning. And then something popped into his head, something Storm had said that morning – if he ever needed an impartial ear he should talk to Saiph in the Dark Forest. But who or what was Saiph and how did Storm know him? He decided that after all he didn't care. He'd talk to Aragog if he thought he'd listen.
The rain outside had stopped and a thick mist had crept up due to the dampness and warmth of the world outside. He pulled on a thick robe and crept through darkened hallways, not knowing the drama that had unfolded in them but a few hours before.
Harry hadn't realised how long he'd been staring into the flames until he saw that dawn was beginning to break through the mist. He'd have to hurry if he wanted to get back in time, but the sun was rising earlier each day.
He hadn't even thought about the risks of going into the Forbidden Forest alone until he was well within the boundary of the trees, but by that time the creeping fog had made him lose his way completely, so, left with little recourse, he carried on. Finding Saiph was his only thought.
Suddenly everything seemed much more frightening in the half-light of dawn. Trees and shrubs became terrifying foes and more than once he was about to attack an acromantula shaped holly bush or a clump of low-growing ferns that vaguely resembled a dragon lying in wait. 'Get a grip on yourself,' he told himself firmly as he wandered through the tall trees.
Then a strange sound came whispering through the woods, a peaceful sound, high-pitched and musical. The sound of pipes.
In the strange, ethereal world that Harry found himself in, the sound of pipes became eerie and magical, like the call of some unearthly bird or angel. He followed the sound like a rat to the pied piper, its haunting notes making him think of some Pan figure playing them. The sound grew steadily louder as he followed, and was surprised to hear a voice challenge him out of the haze.
'Come ye no further, for thou art in the domain of the Lord of the Woods. Turn back now or face thy doom.'
Harry had become so mesmerised by the sound of the pipes that he had almost forgotten why he had come, but Storm's advice to ask any creature he came across the whereabouts of Saiph came back in a flash, even though he didn't know what sort of thing he was addressing. However, the Lord of the Woods did sound quite intimidating.
Harry unconsciously drew himself up to his full height and said back, 'I am looking for Saiph. My name is Harry Potter and I would speak with him. Will you take me to him?'
A solidly built black wolf emerged from a clearing patch of mist. In his ears were several gold rings and feathers tied by short hide strings dangled from braided hairs on the top of his head and the back of his neck. Even though his head only came up to Harry's waist, Harry felt that the beast could easily knock him down with his thick, muscular frame. It was this creature's voice that had challenged him.
'What want you with Saiph?'
'Elhaz sent me. She said if I ever needed advice I should come to him.'
'Elhaz is alive?'
'Yes, she sent me.'
Harry noticed the wolfs' eyes soften at the mention of Storm's first name and his antiquated manner of speech dropped to a gruff, normal way of speaking, 'Come with me then, Harry Potter, and I'll take you to the Lord of the Woods. I did not expect to meet you in our part of this forest, but you are welcome none the less.'
'Thank you. What's your name?'
'Faol.'
Faol set a quick, ground-eating pace and at first it was hard for Harry to keep up with him, but Faol soon noticed his companions struggle and slowed down with an apologetic glance. He forgot that Harry was not used to travelling on such terrain, and that he also did not have four feet to keep his balance.
They arrived at the base of a great oak. Harry had noticed the pipe music getting louder all the time they travelled, but now he could almost feel it. Faol called something unintelligibly up the tree and the pipes abruptly stopped. The black wolf looked up at Harry.
'He will speak with you. I must go back to my post now.' Faol disappeared like a silent shadow into the haze, leaving Harry apparently alone. He was shocked when something huge and white dropped down beside him.
Harry studied the strange apparition curiously. He had never seen anything quite like him, apart from Storm perhaps. He stood taller than her on his hind legs, and Harry himself, in fact Harry couldn't think of anyone apart from Hagrid who was taller than him. He towered a good head above Harry, and his body was muscularly built, although not stocky, but radiated raw power. His fur was the purest white Harry had ever seen, but it was his eyes that transfixed the Boy Who Lived the most. Bright gold in colour, they pierced to the core but radiated a sublime sense of protectiveness and love. Looking in his eyes Harry couldn't find anything to fear about him, despite his impressive size and destructive capability. His eyes held the caring, concerned quality of a father about them and it was all Harry could do not to throw his arms around the wolf. This was why Storm had sent him here.
Saiph smiled down at the boy. To the wolf he looked so young and so fragile, but appearances were often deceiving as the father of the pack well knew, 'Welcome to my part of the Forest, Harry. Why do you seek me out in this dangerous place?'
'Storm, I mean Elhaz, sent me. She said if anything was on my mind that I could not talk to anyone else about I should speak to you.'
'My ears are always open for those who wish to use them, but there is a more comfortable place to speak than here. Before I take you there you must swear you will not tell anyone about what you are about to see. This is a secret place where normally only wolves are allowed to go, but as you have sought me so hard I will make an exception. I do not want anything bad to happen to my pack.'
Harry nodded his acceptance and followed the great white wolf through the trees. Harry noticed the reed pipe hanging from one of Saiph's clawed paws, 'Was that you playing before?'
'Yes. I always go to that oak to play. It's one of the oldest trees in this forest and it shares a little of its wisdom with me when I sit with it. The music just flows through me. It's a good place to think.'
They spoke of something and nothing as they walked, anything that popped into their heads. Saiph was a good companion for he was easy to make laugh, and his laugh was infectious until they just walked and chuckled at nothing at all. Harry felt lucky that Storm had sent him to the paternal wolf. If he called himself the Lord of the Woods then he deserved it, but Harry doubted if the wolf would have even given himself such a grand title.
Saiph put a finger to his black lips and motioned for quiet as he led Harry into a small rocky clearing. He could see why too. Draped in their favourite sleeping positions were Saiph's pack mates, his children. The white wolf led the way to where a large cauldron bubbled constantly over a regularly fed fire. He dipped two wooden bowls into the concoction within and offered one to Harry. He accepted and his stomach growled when he smelled the delicious meaty aroma coming from it. Saiph led him to a moss covered log that made a comfortable bench and they both sat in silence as they ate with fingers.
Harry put down his bowl as Saiph's muzzle dipped inside his to lick out the rich gravy caked around the sides.
'What was that?'
Saiph removed his muzzle from the bowl and licked the final drips of gravy and meat flakes off his stiff whiskers and black nose. 'Deer, rabbit, pheasant, grouse, hare, pigeon, plus a few roots and herbs. A bit of whatever we can find goes in there. It's our staple diet. I'm glad you enjoyed it.'
The pack were just beginning to wake and cast strange looks at their leader and his companion, but decided it was not their business. Some stoked up the fire and others gathered water and wood.
'Now, Harry, what did you want to talk to me about...?'
* * * * *
The leader himself guided Harry back through the forest with practiced ease. Harry's heart felt lighter for having spoken to the great wolf and had received a fair hearing and the understanding he craved. Saiph had listened to him and given him advice as Sirius would have done had he been there, but without the righteous protectiveness that his godfather showed him. Saiph's opinion was much more balanced and Harry was thankful that the wolf had taken him into his inner sanctum and showed him a little of how he and his pack lived and Harry would have no more betrayed them than turned to Voldemort.
He made his way across the grounds and felt the fatherly wolfs' eyes watch him until he was safely within the bounds of the castle. Harry turned to wave to the wolf, but despite his colouration the Lord of the Woods was a master of camouflage in his own domain.
Saiph disappeared into the trees with the agility and grace of a born hunter, even though he was not born with the body he now possessed. Being the Lord of the Lupuscans was a hard job, he had to make sure his pack was content and that it survived, but Colvarn had taught him well.
He had brought his pipe with him and instead of going to the pack grounds he went to his brother oak. He had a lot of thinking to do because of something that Harry had unwittingly said.
He climbed the branches with practised ease and settled into the cradle between two spreading branches and raised the pipe to his lips. The music engulfed him entirely and called the aid of the wolf spirits to him.
Elhaz was alive? It didn't make sense, or did it? When Saiph considered all the possibilities it made his head reel. He would just have to wait for a sign. Dark times were coming, he could feel it in his soul, and he would need all of his strength to face it. Perhaps that was why Elhaz had come back, to show them all the way forward, to death or glory, if she chose to return.
His spirit flew upwards with his haunting music and, for the first time, he did not know what to do.
He really couldn't get over Snape's lack of gratitude – sure the man hated him, but he had just saved his life, surely that at least deserved a thank you? But then again it was Snape that he was talking about. Storm's behaviour was more puzzling. What had possessed her to go into Snape's chambers and tear them up like that? Normally she just wanted to be outside, not causing huge amounts of destruction in teacher's living quarters. Perhaps Snape deserved it after the way he had been treating her. It was a vicious circle, Snape hurts Storm, so Storm gets revenge, so Snape hates her more and hurts her more. Snape should count himself lucky that Harry was there to save him.
Harry often sat alone at night like this, he wouldn't have moved at all if it hadn't been to check on Storm, just staring into the flames. He found it strangely soothing to watch the flame's chaotic, leaping dance.
He never admitted to anyone why he had so much trouble sleeping, especially this year. It had been the same since Cedric's death. His headaches were getting worse and his scar always hurt when he woke, and more often than not he felt the cold sweats of terror all over his body. He was having nightmares, and, what's worse, he knew that they weren't just figments of his imagination. Voldemort was gaining power, but he wasn't ready to announce himself just yet. There was a death almost every night, but minor deaths, not enough to draw attention to himself. But every time someone died Harry felt a part of himself die with them, just like his parents. Voldemort was just consolidating his power and broadening his alliances.
Harry needed to speak to someone, to pour his heart out, but he didn't know who. Dumbledore would have been his first choice, of course, but the old man already had so much to contend with and his own alliances to make. He couldn't even talk to Ron and Hermione, they'd just worry over him and tell him to speak to Dumbledore.
If anyone he wanted to talk to Sirius... or Storm. Now there was an idea. Storm had experienced enough pain and suffering to at least partly understand what he was going through. The more he thought about it he realised that was what he really wanted – not someone to fuss over him or pity him, just someone to understand. Storm's depth of feeling had touched the boy when he had spoken to her early that morning and he finally thought he'd found someone he could lean on without any thought of it backfiring.
But, he thought bitterly, he wouldn't have any chance of finding her tonight when he most needed her – it was doubtful if she'd reappear before morning. And then something popped into his head, something Storm had said that morning – if he ever needed an impartial ear he should talk to Saiph in the Dark Forest. But who or what was Saiph and how did Storm know him? He decided that after all he didn't care. He'd talk to Aragog if he thought he'd listen.
The rain outside had stopped and a thick mist had crept up due to the dampness and warmth of the world outside. He pulled on a thick robe and crept through darkened hallways, not knowing the drama that had unfolded in them but a few hours before.
Harry hadn't realised how long he'd been staring into the flames until he saw that dawn was beginning to break through the mist. He'd have to hurry if he wanted to get back in time, but the sun was rising earlier each day.
He hadn't even thought about the risks of going into the Forbidden Forest alone until he was well within the boundary of the trees, but by that time the creeping fog had made him lose his way completely, so, left with little recourse, he carried on. Finding Saiph was his only thought.
Suddenly everything seemed much more frightening in the half-light of dawn. Trees and shrubs became terrifying foes and more than once he was about to attack an acromantula shaped holly bush or a clump of low-growing ferns that vaguely resembled a dragon lying in wait. 'Get a grip on yourself,' he told himself firmly as he wandered through the tall trees.
Then a strange sound came whispering through the woods, a peaceful sound, high-pitched and musical. The sound of pipes.
In the strange, ethereal world that Harry found himself in, the sound of pipes became eerie and magical, like the call of some unearthly bird or angel. He followed the sound like a rat to the pied piper, its haunting notes making him think of some Pan figure playing them. The sound grew steadily louder as he followed, and was surprised to hear a voice challenge him out of the haze.
'Come ye no further, for thou art in the domain of the Lord of the Woods. Turn back now or face thy doom.'
Harry had become so mesmerised by the sound of the pipes that he had almost forgotten why he had come, but Storm's advice to ask any creature he came across the whereabouts of Saiph came back in a flash, even though he didn't know what sort of thing he was addressing. However, the Lord of the Woods did sound quite intimidating.
Harry unconsciously drew himself up to his full height and said back, 'I am looking for Saiph. My name is Harry Potter and I would speak with him. Will you take me to him?'
A solidly built black wolf emerged from a clearing patch of mist. In his ears were several gold rings and feathers tied by short hide strings dangled from braided hairs on the top of his head and the back of his neck. Even though his head only came up to Harry's waist, Harry felt that the beast could easily knock him down with his thick, muscular frame. It was this creature's voice that had challenged him.
'What want you with Saiph?'
'Elhaz sent me. She said if I ever needed advice I should come to him.'
'Elhaz is alive?'
'Yes, she sent me.'
Harry noticed the wolfs' eyes soften at the mention of Storm's first name and his antiquated manner of speech dropped to a gruff, normal way of speaking, 'Come with me then, Harry Potter, and I'll take you to the Lord of the Woods. I did not expect to meet you in our part of this forest, but you are welcome none the less.'
'Thank you. What's your name?'
'Faol.'
Faol set a quick, ground-eating pace and at first it was hard for Harry to keep up with him, but Faol soon noticed his companions struggle and slowed down with an apologetic glance. He forgot that Harry was not used to travelling on such terrain, and that he also did not have four feet to keep his balance.
They arrived at the base of a great oak. Harry had noticed the pipe music getting louder all the time they travelled, but now he could almost feel it. Faol called something unintelligibly up the tree and the pipes abruptly stopped. The black wolf looked up at Harry.
'He will speak with you. I must go back to my post now.' Faol disappeared like a silent shadow into the haze, leaving Harry apparently alone. He was shocked when something huge and white dropped down beside him.
Harry studied the strange apparition curiously. He had never seen anything quite like him, apart from Storm perhaps. He stood taller than her on his hind legs, and Harry himself, in fact Harry couldn't think of anyone apart from Hagrid who was taller than him. He towered a good head above Harry, and his body was muscularly built, although not stocky, but radiated raw power. His fur was the purest white Harry had ever seen, but it was his eyes that transfixed the Boy Who Lived the most. Bright gold in colour, they pierced to the core but radiated a sublime sense of protectiveness and love. Looking in his eyes Harry couldn't find anything to fear about him, despite his impressive size and destructive capability. His eyes held the caring, concerned quality of a father about them and it was all Harry could do not to throw his arms around the wolf. This was why Storm had sent him here.
Saiph smiled down at the boy. To the wolf he looked so young and so fragile, but appearances were often deceiving as the father of the pack well knew, 'Welcome to my part of the Forest, Harry. Why do you seek me out in this dangerous place?'
'Storm, I mean Elhaz, sent me. She said if anything was on my mind that I could not talk to anyone else about I should speak to you.'
'My ears are always open for those who wish to use them, but there is a more comfortable place to speak than here. Before I take you there you must swear you will not tell anyone about what you are about to see. This is a secret place where normally only wolves are allowed to go, but as you have sought me so hard I will make an exception. I do not want anything bad to happen to my pack.'
Harry nodded his acceptance and followed the great white wolf through the trees. Harry noticed the reed pipe hanging from one of Saiph's clawed paws, 'Was that you playing before?'
'Yes. I always go to that oak to play. It's one of the oldest trees in this forest and it shares a little of its wisdom with me when I sit with it. The music just flows through me. It's a good place to think.'
They spoke of something and nothing as they walked, anything that popped into their heads. Saiph was a good companion for he was easy to make laugh, and his laugh was infectious until they just walked and chuckled at nothing at all. Harry felt lucky that Storm had sent him to the paternal wolf. If he called himself the Lord of the Woods then he deserved it, but Harry doubted if the wolf would have even given himself such a grand title.
Saiph put a finger to his black lips and motioned for quiet as he led Harry into a small rocky clearing. He could see why too. Draped in their favourite sleeping positions were Saiph's pack mates, his children. The white wolf led the way to where a large cauldron bubbled constantly over a regularly fed fire. He dipped two wooden bowls into the concoction within and offered one to Harry. He accepted and his stomach growled when he smelled the delicious meaty aroma coming from it. Saiph led him to a moss covered log that made a comfortable bench and they both sat in silence as they ate with fingers.
Harry put down his bowl as Saiph's muzzle dipped inside his to lick out the rich gravy caked around the sides.
'What was that?'
Saiph removed his muzzle from the bowl and licked the final drips of gravy and meat flakes off his stiff whiskers and black nose. 'Deer, rabbit, pheasant, grouse, hare, pigeon, plus a few roots and herbs. A bit of whatever we can find goes in there. It's our staple diet. I'm glad you enjoyed it.'
The pack were just beginning to wake and cast strange looks at their leader and his companion, but decided it was not their business. Some stoked up the fire and others gathered water and wood.
'Now, Harry, what did you want to talk to me about...?'
* * * * *
The leader himself guided Harry back through the forest with practiced ease. Harry's heart felt lighter for having spoken to the great wolf and had received a fair hearing and the understanding he craved. Saiph had listened to him and given him advice as Sirius would have done had he been there, but without the righteous protectiveness that his godfather showed him. Saiph's opinion was much more balanced and Harry was thankful that the wolf had taken him into his inner sanctum and showed him a little of how he and his pack lived and Harry would have no more betrayed them than turned to Voldemort.
He made his way across the grounds and felt the fatherly wolfs' eyes watch him until he was safely within the bounds of the castle. Harry turned to wave to the wolf, but despite his colouration the Lord of the Woods was a master of camouflage in his own domain.
Saiph disappeared into the trees with the agility and grace of a born hunter, even though he was not born with the body he now possessed. Being the Lord of the Lupuscans was a hard job, he had to make sure his pack was content and that it survived, but Colvarn had taught him well.
He had brought his pipe with him and instead of going to the pack grounds he went to his brother oak. He had a lot of thinking to do because of something that Harry had unwittingly said.
He climbed the branches with practised ease and settled into the cradle between two spreading branches and raised the pipe to his lips. The music engulfed him entirely and called the aid of the wolf spirits to him.
Elhaz was alive? It didn't make sense, or did it? When Saiph considered all the possibilities it made his head reel. He would just have to wait for a sign. Dark times were coming, he could feel it in his soul, and he would need all of his strength to face it. Perhaps that was why Elhaz had come back, to show them all the way forward, to death or glory, if she chose to return.
His spirit flew upwards with his haunting music and, for the first time, he did not know what to do.