"to anyone who knows a writer, never underestimate the power of your encouragement." - Mathew Reilly
Disclaimer: You know what I don't own
Recreant
Chapter 8
By Robbly
Beta'd by Gilthas
Authors Note: Just a short one because I don't want to write it at the end. I know this chapter is very far off the storys track it's just that I was thinking up a history for Anafiel and a place for Harry to go (hint!) and this came up. I promise it's very interesting and quite important and also good reading. Okay how about next chappy we start on what happened to Harry? I'll answer review questions and comments next chappy! Thanks for all the reviews. Sorry about the spacing it stuffs up when I preview it.:S
Harry looked over at the scroll on the ground. Anafiel had left it for him, he was sure of that, he just wasn't sure whether he wanted to read it. Reading the title had quickly confirmed his doubts. As he sat still and silent a memory flittered to the front of his mind.
'You musst trusst me
I cannot trust. Not anymore.
Then they had argued. Then,
'You are not the only one to have caussed death.
The serpents presence remained in his mind, the difference was it was closed off from him. Thoughts blocked, feelings blocked, Harry felt incredibly alone.
It had been so stupid as well.
Anafiel... Such little time and already Harry felt at ease with the serpent. Anafiel knew everything. That was the difference. Anafiel knew what he had done and he hadn't hated Harry for it. He hadn't shown the pity Harry had always hated and yet he had empathized in a way that had made Harry feel more sure and more confident about what he had done than ever before. It was like a secret. It burnt, twisted, writhed inside you until you told someone...
Read it.
Khariss' voice resounded through his mind dragging him out of his thoughts. After a pause Harry sighed and reached for the scroll. He hesitated. Stared at it for a few seconds, then with another sigh unrolled it.
"THE PERSONAL ACCOUNTS OF SALAZAR SLYTHERIN"
Harry reread the title a few times, and that just confirmed what he had feared. No, the parchment hadn't changed, he was still reading an diary of the most hated founder.
Harry hesitated again as he looked at it, eyes skimming over the expanse of flowing script. Then taking a deep breath he began to read.
'Of all things I though would result in the destruction of our companionship, admittedly, our love for our familiars was something none could ever hope to foresee. Though my purpose was achieved, the cost disquiets me. I thought I was above the petty envy, above simple jealousy.
Was it worth it? My pride says yes, my logic says no, my jealousy... No. No longer shall I listen to the vile temptress. How far have I fallen?
It is my fault, there is no mistaking that. Even if he cannot tell me so. Sadly, it will never be Godric's, no matter how hard I wish it so.
You reader, most likely have no idea of what I speak. I speak of my biggest failing, my final stand. My loss.
I was one of four. The others were Rowena, Helga, and Godric. We were close. No, beyond close. Our relationships went so far as one could go without marriage or mental bonding. Together, we could do anything.
The memories that brings. One of the most prominent of our many achievements to me has to be when we did what many thought impossible. We took on the form of an animal. Rowena is a Raven, Helga a Badger, Godric a Griffin and I am a Serpent. We named ourselves Animagi and took on family names after our animals. I have taken Slytherin, Godric: Gryffindor, Rowena: Ravenclaw, Helga: Hufflepuff. The discovery was miraculous though Rowena and Godric in it, drew more pleasure than Helga and I. Funny how they, the more enamored with their forms, chose not to give their house the same animal representative. As for Helga, she was calm and happy with our discover, forever calm and happy.
However our greatest act, would have to be what I left. What i left.
Hogwarts I believe they named it. After the wart covered hog that led Godric to the very grounds. He was always hunting something or other.
We all left our secrets there. Along with presents for our descendants and our equals. I believe I left the most, however mine are best concealed.
Yet, as great as Hogwarts is, it's greatness cannot compare to the sheer stupidity I showed.
I am dodging.
It started with Puros. Puros is a phoenix. A bird of such beauty it cannot be described. Even so Puros exceeded that of its species. Puros had grace exceeding any animal, even that of my treasured serpents. Mix that with luscious plumage, and you have one of the most beautiful creatures to ever exist. Everything about Puros was exquisite, his feathers were pure creamy white speckled with the brightest gold, which faded to a beautiful dark red about three fourths down, before fading to an even deeper shade a the very end. A red I liked to describe as blood by moonlight.
Puros was the most beautiful thing I have ever known and therefore of course Godric's familiar. How Godric managed to deceive the magnificent creature, I shall never know. Puros should have been mine. It was I that found Puros first. I found Puros, I took h, I healed him and I nursed him until he lived. Anafiel gave up my attentions for him. And Puros went to Godric.
Puros went to Godric.
went to .
That was the start.
How I hated Godric. How I hated him. Actually, I doubt it could even be called Hatred, it was something far worse. The human description? Jealousy.
That would make most laugh. This cold unfeeling bastard reacting to the most petty of all human weaknesses. What a way to prove that I am actually Human.
Funny how now this hatred has turned. Funny how my self resentment has blossomed. Funny how even yet I still hold my pride.
Yes I am bitter, and yes I know it is all my fault.
All mine.
Needless to say, with my jealousy, the ever present quarrel between Godric and I erupted in a war horror of hostility and enmity. We had always fought, but never had it been so severe. When I think back, I see the ending as somewhat an anti climax.
"This is the way the world ends, Not with a bang but a whimper.""
My friends words. Words that dismally exemplify my very existence.
I am sidetracking again.
I was bitter when Puros left me. I became brooding and silent, shut off from the world. Helga, Rowena, even Godric tried to pull me back, but I was lost. I believe I punched Godric once. But I realise now how pitiful such an act was.
The whole affair left me somewhat competitive. I felt the need to prove myself again. It was a strange feeling. One I was unused to. I had long before cut myself off from petty emotions, dedicated myself to a life of scholarly pursuit, with only an air of mystery around me, and an aura of self confidence and power. I succeeded too, but let myself out with my friends. Helga, Rowena & Godric provided an outlet for me. One cannot study all their life.
Ah. If only such a way had stayed, and to think it was all over jealousy.
We had many fights, Godric & I. They were mostly of my own causing, at least I can admit to that now. But he responded and I take some comfort in the fact it was at least partly not my fault, though it is a tiny part.
This jealousy and intense rivalry erupted at Hogwarts. It all too soon was transferred to the students, and our houses Griffindor and Slytherin, were constantly mirroring our all too frequent battles.
Yet, it started with Puros and would end with him too.
Anafiel was my faithful familiar, Puros was Godric's. Helena had Phedre, a Unicorn & Rowena had Gaireth, a Sphinx. Anafiel though the least remarkable of all our familiars, had the ability to converse with me and for years this had been what I believe had kept my jealousy in check. Until Puros.
It was in a pitiful, meaningless argument with Godric in which he casually shouted out the boast that his, Helga's and Rowena's would live far beyond Anafiel. Despite my love for him, Anafiel was very much the weakest magically wise of all our familiar's. His only magical talent lay in mind magic, he had a strange ability to get into people's minds, unless they possessed strong mental barriers which he had too much honour to attempt to compromise. Anafiel's strength lay in his intelligence and in his ability to converse with me, mind to mind.
That made me insanely jealous. With no proper reason at all. We four, would all die one day, but the thought that Anafiel would not live on as the other's familiars would haunted me. I pulled away from all of them, and studied harder and harder to find a way to make Anafiel live on like all the rest. The only solution I found was even more haunting.
It was dark magic. There were no doubts to that, no confusion in my mind that what I planned was dark as blackest sin. I almost abandoned the idea as soon as I thought of it, but as is human, the idea would not leave my mind so easily.
Eventually I realised it was not to be. There was no other way to create immortality for another, man, beast or otherwise. But I had become obsessed with the idea. I wanted to find immortality for Anafiel. I needed to find the secret. I did everything I could, but I couldn't find it.
Previously I had confined myself to my rooms. Taken up living totally in the Southern tower, but I moved into the dungeons. The cold, dank atmosphere suited my disposition perfectly.
I think I hurt Helga the most. She never said a word yet I could see it in her eyes and almost sense it in the air around her. It is sad how that and only that evokes guilt. However even such guilt could not overcome my monstrous pride and colossal jealousy.
The idea consumed me, it sat in the back of my mind, taunting me. Likely I seemed mad to those around me yet unfortunately my intelligence and large ability to do and create powerful magic was not affected. Truly, I may have been mad, yet even that is not a great enough excuse.
At first I continued to teach, however I disturbed my students so much I was forcibly stopped.
In my madness I created much I wish I never had. Some of the most evil rituals, incantations, callings, spells and potions have stemmed from my hands, in what some would call the most 'brilliant' stage of my life. It was then I created some of the greatest and most powerful uses of magic known to wizard kind yet I regret them all. As one always does, I find pride in such great accomplishments, and in that blooms much self resentment. And now they are known, the world that follows will suffer despite the fault resting on my shoulders. The worst would be three mere spells, surprisingly some of the easiest to both create and form. I call them the Pain, the Controlling and the Death curse. They are wandless and emotion formed and I pray to whatever gods may be that they remain so. If they are made incantation called, I pity the world that finds it so.
In such a state the thought was worst than ever before. It extended obsession beyond the bindings of description. It reached such a state I no longer knew why I persisted in forgetting it. I was sleepless plagued with nightmares.
Even so, I was still sane. And in my sanity I continued inventing. I invented a potion I like to call '"Dreamless Sleep"' , I will not bore you with explanations of how it works except to say that I developed an immunity to it. It is like any medication one takes too often. The body adapts.
Through all this my obsession was progressing. Slowly taking over my very sanity. I believe I was mad, though this may simply be my mind attempting to excuse the horrendous lengths I went to to excuse what I did. It is human to attempt to excuse our mistakes and as I proved, I am human.
Enough excuses.
Mad or no the knowledge of how to create practical immortality for Anafiel was all I thought about. Soon enough it no longer seemed to dark, it seemed to merely be taking what by all rights should have been mine. So I took it.
I took Puros.
After all the research I had done on the runes, the incantations, the rituals needed, all else was easy and soon done. I refuse to say more about it. I have destroyed every record of the magic I can find and I hope to every god in existance that such knowledge never resurfaces.
Either way I performed the deed. I took Puros and I killed him. I killed him to transfer his burning day ability to Anafiel and therefore create practical immortality for my familiar.
But dark magic has a will of its own, hence it's other name, wild magic. It took my power and achieved its ends, caused chaos and destruction through its own wants, not mine. It took Puros and Anafiel and fused them together. What remained was a winged, feathered serpent with two conflicting personalities in its mind.
My treasured familiar, my only friend, was beyond my help and Puros was dead by my own hand.
Anafiel was mad. He was no longer a serpent much as he his mind wanted it. He was no longer cold blooded but warm blooded. He was feathered not scaled. And winged instead of earth bound. Is it wrong to say it pushed him into confusion so deep it bordered on insanity? Never. I was wrong.
Puros was worse. He was no longer an air borne creature nor a symbol of light and hope. He was now condemned to a compromise between the very animalistic symbol of evil and that of good. Puros refused to accept his predicament. He believed he was still the beautiful phoenix he had always been. He refused to accept his state. He would not accept he was winged, feathered, serpent. And so, Puros was mad.
Two insane entities forced into a mangled body beyond reprise. Both struggling for domination, for control over the horrid creation. It was horrific.
Anafiel when in control, spent hours looking into a mirror in silence. He no longer recognised me, nor himself. I was only seen as the demon that had condemned him to such a fate. He recognised nothing. He could not recognise himself.
Then there was where Puros was in control. With Puros in control it was an chaotic struggle. Puros still believed himself to be a phoenix, to have a phoenix's power, one's dimensions etc. Puros would attempt to fly and unable to accept that he was different from how he used to be he would fail miserably. Puros would lie where he was a twist, maniacally, writhing. Pathetically trying to get this creation to do what the body of a phoenix would do. It was a fight. A pure fight against himself.
Most often neither was in control. It was a fight. Sometimes it was mental, more often physical. Seconds where one would be in control , the next minute, the other. Sometimes both, one pulling one way, the other pulling the other. Other times it would be a mental fight. The mutated serpent lay quietly, sometimes even delicately curled, while expressions of pain, sadness, anger, triumph and everything in between flickered over it's face and blank eyes.
I was afraid to help. I was afraid I would make it worse. Not that I truly could.
Finally, after six months after such torture. Anafiel-Puros, had a burning day. It was absolute horror when the struggling Phoenix-Serpent suddenly burst into an ugly black flame screaming black magic.
I have not listed my reaction to all this. I have never suffered a punishment equal to what i caused. I killed a phoenix, I tortured my familiar, and I have the audacity to list my pains? Never. I am not so petty. No matter what I do, it will always be others who suffer for my mistakes.
Through this I had locked myself in my dungeons. Confined Anafiel-Puros to a single room. As capable as I am of warding and shielding. It was Helga I could not keep out. She offered forgiveness. She offered support. She offered to leave and never bother me again. It was that I could not take. It was then I let her in and it was then she learnt what I had done.
Helga has always been above human weakness. Through her tears, through her anger, through her confusion she could not find it in herself to blame me. And somehow, that brought more guilt than anything else.
However finally some god had deemed Anafiel's suffering enough. Out of such evil came Anafiel. He came in control of the beautiful yet evil, feathered, serpentine, body. Sane in mind & spirit. And Puros' spirit, came reborn in the body of a new phoenix. More beautiful than the old, yet in a different way. The new phoenix did not carry that same innate grace, but in a strange twist of the divine mistress came as a bird of such good that it was the epitome of the light.
All this time I had locked myself in my dungeons. It had not taken long for Godric & the others to realise it was I who had taken Puros, and when Godric felt the tear of Puros' death they were certain.
When I finally emerged, to give Godric Fawkes, as I had named the new phoenix he was adamant, as was Rowena. I was to leave.
Helga I must add had nothing to do with my banishment. My exile was the doing of Godric & Rowena by themselves. She cried and cried and that broke all our hearts. But even as Fawkes bonded with Godric, nothing could ease his pain over Puros. And nothing could make up for what I had done.
In my youthful arrogance I believed it was Godric's fault. I argued and argued. Told him I had made a mistake as was human. That he had no right to force me away from Hogwarts, the place I had created with them. I told him I had put as much into it as he had, and it was as much mine as his.
Godric in turn laid his own ultimatum. He agreed. It was as much mine as his, as it was all of ours, however so long as Anafiel, the ultimate reminder of Puros remained. I could never return.
This I could not allow. I could never kill Anafiel. I could never part with him, not to mention killing him in return for my own sins. I left.
So here I remain. In my own little castle. Living the rest of my days with Anafiel. I could not bear the loneliness so I have gathered many animals. Magical mostly but a few not. I hope to save a few races from the extinction looming for their kinds. The basement of my castle I have put the last remnants of my magnificent magical potential into. It is a small world in kind. It houses many many many creatures, great and small, evil and good, prey and predator. Call it my penance. My gift to the world in kind. I feel that maybe the animals I have saved will be needed some day, and maybe then my sins can be made up for.
The rest of my penance lies here in this castle. Research and testing have led to what one day may be an amazing discovery. Maybe if in the future much of our knowledge regarding magic is lost, what I have stored and spent the my last days recording, will be of use. Will forgive my evil deeds.
I make too much of it. I would have you reader, see I am sorry. Have my futile attempts make up for what I have done. However that is too much to ask, instead I ask you understand. Understand me, understand what I have tried to convey, the simple words, I am sorry.
Maybe you will use my stored knowledge, maybe you will bring an extinct species back from my world. Maybe you will ease Anafiel's suffering if he still lives. He believes it is his fault. He believes without him, I would have been forgiven, it would have not ended this way. But I would not let him die, I would not kill him. Hence the charm rendering him unable to take his own life. He has never read this, for he does not believe it's contents. Most likely, as you read this he still wallows in his own guilt.
As we are human we believe that we are everything, but everything, in actuality it is beyond us. Magic, the universe, everything. Everything is bigger than we are. But we are petty. We believe that we are the be all end all of everything. We aren't. But in believing so, we must make it so and so we meddle. Like I. I meddled, I had to believe that I could make things the way I wanted it. All for what? For jealousy. For emerald envy.
I do not know how to end this. But I cannot truly end what I have started. I cannot return with Anafiel still alive, but truly I cannot kill him. It is unjust for Godric to ask Anafiel pay for my sins but the only true payment would be my death, hence the resulting charm on me forbidding my own suicide.
Anafiel & I, doomed forever. Unable to take our own, or the other's life. The difference is it was I that doomed us both.
I cannot save us now. I shall pass soon, and my black presence shall linger in the history books. Anafiel will live on, living his black existence of my own creation.
Lies or truth, I cann0t change it, nor can I clear my own name. Maybe you reader, will add some light to my black remembrance. Maybe you will save Anafiel. Maybe you will save us all.'
Authors Note:
William Ernest Henley, 1903, untitled
"Out of the night that covers me
Black as the pit from pole to pole
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced or cried aloud
Under the bludgeoning of chance
My head is bloody but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how straight the gait
How charged with punishments the scroll
I am the captain of my fate
I am the master of me soul."
T.S. Eliot, The Hollow Men.
Find a copy here: (take out spaces)
http: www. americanpoems. com/poets/tseliot/1076