Black Phoenix
Chapter 6
Field trip
The Earth spun, around and around. As it has and always will. Down a little closer in Hogwarts, Harry Potter sat in a classroom, which it was is not important, to him, or to anyone watching.
The days had come, and with as much boredom as possible, left. The nights however, they passed with freakish speed and horror. Dreams, nightmares and visions mixed, creating a frightful parody of sleep for him. It was starting to take its toll on him, there was only so much glamour charms and energy potions could do, his thoughts were sporadic, he looked like the living dead, and he began to become apathetic.
The classroom he was in was boring and hot, he felt he could sleep forever, but refused to let his fears be shown to him yet again. He needed to walk, do something to keep him moving, so sleep would be staved off. He rose, the teacher stopped mid lecture, the students watched eagerly for action. He walked to the door opened it and continued out. The shocked teacher gaped, the students giggled, except for a few who knew that this wasn't right.
Harry kept walking, down the corridor, up a flight of stairs, down another corridor, left across a bridge over a stairwell, down a flight of stairs, and another, to a dank musty corridor. He paused at a painting of a snake, with gold and silver stripes, that hissed insults continually. He walked up to it, "What is behind you old one?" he hissed in parsletongue.
"The stars and the moon, and the sun and the clouds." He replied.
"Admit one who needs to see what you hide." He finished the long, complicated password.
The painting rose till the opening behind it was revealed. He found behind it, like he had so many times before, the great expanse of the grounds and forbidden forest.
The forest rose and fell before him till it came to a range of mountains, which rose through the forest coming above the tree line, several leagues away. He stood in the field staring at the mountains. It called to him like nothing before ever had, he checked to make sure he had a wand, and started off on his little trip.
It was already late when he started and he knew he would probably have to stay over night, but he needed to go, like nothing he ever needed to do before. He paused at the edge of the forest letting his doubts and second thoughts come to the front and dispelling them all. He pushed onward on his long and tedious walk.
The trees creaked and groaned with their own voices and eyes looked back at him in the darkness that fell, whether from night or the forest he couldn't tell. The eyes followed him always, different ones, different places, but there was always something watching as though to make sure he didn't do anything untoward in their collective woods.
He kept his wand at hand incase something happened, which it undoubtedly would, his eyes stayed alert, all weariness forgotten as a new adventure unfolded before him. He passed his fingers through leaves and across bark, his shoes became wet and he realized he was totally unready for traveling in the woods, he quickly transfigured his shoes to hiking boots, his slacks to jeans, and shirt and robes to a tee-shirt and jacket.
Well as best as he could anyway. His jeans turned out without any pockets and the jacket was made of the same cloth as the robes, but it worked.
He started when he felt the ground shake, he bent to the ground and pressed his ear to it. Hooves. Shit. He leaned against a tree and made himself to look as unthreatening as possible for someone with several piercing, spiky hair, and tattoos all over his body.
He watched the ground ready for the centaurs when they came upon him. Suddenly the ground stopped shaking, and an arrow appeared between his feet. "We warned you wizards to not stray into our woods! Do you take pleasure in disobeying orders?" one centaur stepped forward and proclaimed.
Harry lifted his head, the centaurs gasped upon seeing the identifying features. "We have warned you before Harry Potter, we will not be merciful upon you!" he laughed in their faces.
"You can't kill me! No one can! No mortal can destroy me!" he shouted at them. They were taken aback by the bold ultimatum.
"Foolish boy, what makes you to be above all others? Nothing! You are a weak untrained boy with great luck." They taunted him, the jeers came from all the centaurs.
"A prophecy stands above me, and even without it I am to powerful for you." He stated.
"A prophecy?" their attention was caught and some fear gained, "A prophecy upon one so young?" the questions arose from the group. A radical youth reared upon his hind legs, "Prophecy can be changed!"
"One must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives…" he said, every centaur heard and understood its meaning, they seemed scared that only the other could kill one of them. They still stood though, as though they could change it. Their bows where raised, and arrows pulled back.
He raised his wand, lazily pointed at their general direction "Motus Terrae." The earth under the centaurs shook and cracked, the horse instincts seemed to kick in because they spooked and ran at full gallop from the area.
He put his wand away, sighing at even having to put up his arrogant mask in the woods. He had spent valuable time with the beasts and now had less time to get to the mountain before night.
He sped up walking quicker, but the eyes never left him even now when he was so far into the woods that he had to light his wand.
A hour or so past and he only encountered a small acromantula that scuttled off when the light came upon it. The night sky was hidden from view and the vales and clearings and streams and various trees soon began the swirl together in almost a pattern.
The dark became blacker and he guessed night was falling now, but he noticed a definite incline in the slope now, but then he saw a glow up ahead. He slowed until he came upon the edge of a clearing stealthily.
The woods parted so that a small pond could linger, surrounded by reeds, and the grass was covered in wildflowers until the edge, which consisted mostly of birch and ash. What he saw there must have been the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A fully-grown unicorn stood by the water, drinking.
He could only stare as it looked up and at him and then continued drinking. He was shocked; he knew that unicorns were naturally skittish, so why would it stay if it knew he was there?
He moved forward cautiously, the beast still did not seem to care he was there. He came upon it and sat near it, cross-legged, so it continued drinking. He looked to the pond and cupped some in his hands and drank some himself. The water felt good on his parched throat that he hadn't noticed till now.
The unicorn laid down next to him, as though get to know him. Its huge face turned to him, he studied it closely, the silver-blue eyes in the perfect face.
He reached a hand to it, but it snorted before he could, jerking its head away, he stopped his hand. A feeling of rejection came to him unbidden, he was not allowed to touch something so beautiful? Had he not proved himself worthy? Was he not good enough? Was he really a failure?
He dropped his head, tears coming to eyes even though he tried to rationalize it as just a stupid beast. But he knew better. They were smart, good creatures. That was worse, he was being judged again. This time by something that could and did know him.
The tears fell fast now that the rejection came to the front, he knew why, because of what he had to be. He had to be a murderer, blood had been spilled around him and more would. The reality of what he had become now hit him. He was a killer, no worse, no better. He had lost the game of life, that of choosing the right path, your path, and liking it. He had not chosen it, and it was not the one he wanted given the choice.
But knowing why did not lessen the pain of rejection, the opposite, it heightened it, especially knowing that it was not your choice why you where rejected so completely.
His anger flew now; his emotions were out of his control. Anger at the unicorn for rejecting him, for judging him, for making him come out of his naivety of what he was. Pain and anger, and hopelessness, because he could never change either, and hate. The hate began to grow fast, hate at the unicorn, at the world, but mostly at himself.
Faster than anything he had stood, drawn his wand, and pointed it at the unicorn. His hate, anger, and pain whirled together into words. "Avada Kedavra!" he screamed. Tears still in his eyes, he watched the beautiful creature slump to the ground, the glow around it died, and its eyes closed. He dropped his wand, crying even harder, he had killed the beautiful thing because he couldn't handle rejection.
He reached a hand to the face of the beast. He patted the still warm body, not enjoying the feelings that he thought he would have. Victory and happiness, he had thought in his rage he could have, where not there. Only sadness and self-loathing. He was a cursed being; he killed a great creature for showing him himself, for giving him pain unintentionally.
He drew his hand away as if burned, he was not worthy to touch it, but he had anyway, he had desecrated the sacred creature. He bashed his hand into the ground, blood flowed to the ground, he took his wand, and held it close, it would remind him of the evils committed here, he turned the wand to himself.
Once again the hate and pain and anger took control, the tears were new ones, ones of self-hate and self-disgust, the words came forth once again, "Avada Kedavra." This time whispered. The green light seemed to inch toward him. Then it touched him.
But the desired effect was not there, only physical pain to accompany the emotional pain. He screamed, not in pain from the spell, which any other might have, but in pain of failure, and frustration. He wanted to escape, but he couldn't. This time he screamed the words, "Avada Kedavra!" again only pain. He screamed the words over and over, but his escape never came and the unicorn was still there, still dead by his hand. He slumped down from his kneeling position. Laying back, letting sadness take the front. The hot tears still fell never stopping it seemed.
The unicorn seemed peaceful in its death, lying down, head resting on its bent knees. He felt like scum, dirt, lower than dirt. He was a waste of air. He had killed the beautiful beast. He was damned truly now.
His tears never stopped, even when his exhaustion took a hold of him, and he slept. He awoke to light falling in the clearing. The pain took him again. The unicorn stayed undisturbed. He wondered of the consequences of his actions, he deserved whatever they were.
His wand came up again, intentions this time noble. His weaved his wand, eyes closed, letting the magic hold him in its warm embrace, show him, and guide him, heal him, help him. The area soon changed, a crystal base stood soaking in the light. Atop it was the unicorn, preserved and resting in the same position. Words carved into the base. He let go of the comforting magic, and came back to the pain of reality.
It was too much.
He ran.
Ran as fast as he could.
Pain coursed through him. Branches scraped him, bushes rasped him. But he never noticed. His eyes were firmly closed, trying to make the image leave his tormented mind.
The slope increase as he ran, he climbed unknowingly, running, running. The trees became thinner, bushes scraggily. But it all went unnoticed. Even as the grass turned to rock, the air became thinner, and the slope increased. He soon had to stop, because his body couldn't keep it up. He slumped to the ground.
The pain had become too much for tears. But his eyes showed it. He used to show every emotion through his eyes, but he had learnt to cover it up. Now the only thing there was pain.
He sat there. His mind had blanked. The pain had become too much to handle, and he had shut down suddenly. Wings fluttered beyond a rock. Automatically, he rose to investigate, over the rock he found a large nest with a red and gold bird inside. His mind returned and his hopes rose.
Maybe this creature wouldn't judge him so harshly. Maybe he had a chance at redemption. He reached out a hand, unconsciously in the same motion as with the unicorn, he had almost touched its head, when it flashed and the phoenix's beak pierced his hand, it trilled out a sharp note that pierced his heart, and disappeared in flames.
Rejected again. Again. "AGAIN!" he screamed, the pain returned three fold. Too much to handle, he passed out.
Awakening again with only pain, the memories returned. Anger, rejection, hate, rage, self-loathing, sadness, hopelessness, they all pounded their way through his head trying to become for most in his mind. He almost passed out again, but was able to stem the flow and make sadness his companion. Looking around himself he found himself near the top of one of the mountains that he saw from Hogwarts.
He sat down again, and made food from his wand, not good food, but it had the nutrients. He needed that phoenix. He wanted it to like him. He wanted its judgment of him to be good. Looking to the nest he saw the sleeping phoenix. He walked to it again.
Reaching for it he was able to touch it before it started awake and disappeared. Sighing he knew he was in for the long haul to accomplish this.