CHAPTER FOUR: "Attack"
Martis was glad she ignored her roommates' requests to paint her face. It made splashing water on it easier and less messy.
She fluttered her eyes open and stared at her reflection, her face dripping water and her hair still in place even though she had danced three tangos.
"What's wrong with you?" she hissed at her image. "What makes you think he'd want the same thing? He hasn't even ONCE tried to grope you! The whole thing is one-sided, you know! He only says those things to tease you back!"
She splashed water on her face again as she felt tears threaten to break.
Damn it. She wished she was eleven and he was thirteen again, when both were little kids and played pranks and were more innocent. Not now at fourteen and sixteen when hormones overwhelmed her common sense and he was physically capable of ...
Damn, damn, damn!
After a few more moments she had calmed down enough to dry her face. When she removed the towel, she was staring back at Moaning Myrtle.
"Not your usual bathroom, is it?" Martis asked.
Myrtle smirked nastily. "You shouldn't scold yourself so loud - could hear it all through the plumbing." Her expression softened and she sat back in the sink. "Are you finally going to ... what's the word this decade? ... 'jump' creepy little Snape?"
"Shut up, Myrtle."
The ghost's chin quivered. "Fine, be that way." She sank into the sink drain. "But I'll tell you this - boys are terribly, awfully cruel when you ask them to be yours. That happened just before I died, you know - crying over my heartbreak and that nasty bint Olive Hornby had to make things worse, forcing me in the bathroom where I died."
She vanished down the drain.
Martis rolled her eyes. "That was completely and utterly pointless."
A sob shot up through the drain as Martis turned to leave the girls' room.
She was stopped on her way out by a House-Elf appearing before her, sneezing before she handed Martis a note. "For Britty Vox, this is."
"Thanks, Sneezy," Martis answered as the House-Elf vanished and she opened the parchment.
'Spirals, meet me in the Rose Gardens. - Snips'
She turned the paper over, making sure there was nothing else, made sure the handwriting was his, and found it was legitimate. Pausing at the antechamber, she picked up her cloak and wrapped it around her body before ducking out through the courtyard and to the Rose Gardens.
What did he want to talk about in the Rose Gardens that he could not at the dance?
Unless there was to be little talking involved.
(Don't get your hopes up, girl.)
It seemed eerily quiet. It was an open secret that Hagrid was keeping an eye on the place in case any students 'gots any strange idears' about what to do with their dates. And yet, the quietness seemed too complete in the light of the nearly full moon. There was not even the breath of any wandering students.
Still it was lovely, the rose blooms tight in the cold air and their spiny vines looped around in the moonlight ...
"Panni Vox," a husky voice breathed behind her.
Martis spun around, gasping at the sound. "Mr. Karkaroff!"
"Did I frighten you? I hardly meant to." He stood close to her, his blonde hair almost silver in the moonlight and his pale features nearly translucent.
"Where's Severus?" she asked, feeling a headache suddenly pounding at the front of her head.
"Not here," he answered, reaching out to touch her face.
Martis swatted his hand away. "Leave me alone, Karkaroff." She turned and was startled to feel her feet not moving, then gasped as every muscle in her body froze. "What the - !"
He moved around her, his wand in hand. "I'm surprised at you, Panni Vox. My ability at suggestion should have you begging for release by this point, not resisting - "
"What are you talking about?" she demanded, feeling the headache now subsiding. "And let me go!"
He sighed. "Britomartis, how are you able to resist? My abilities in suggestion have given me anything I wanted - anyone I wanted. And yet, an earthy little snake charmer from a barbarian culture is able to resist the pulse of lust." He touched her face again; Martis' arms remained stiff at her side under the cloak. "Most commendable."
Realization dawned. "Do you have ANY idea what you're doing?" she hissed. "Trying to force a girl with witnesses around??"
"There won't be. As I said, my abilities at suggestion are quite powerful - there is no one here but us."
"You're trying to use an Unforgivable - !"
"No, this is not the Imperius Curse - this is merely suggestion. Several worlds' difference; a rare gift, and I just happened to have been born with the ability."
"And what do you think will happen after you've had your way?? You think I'll keep my mouth shut??"
"According to my own research, women become even more pliant to suggestion after the act. I'm sure you won't be able to resist much during the lassitude. You'll willingly become mine." His hand cupped her face. "I know many of the boys here have lusted after you, and yet ... it puzzles me as to why you save it for that Snape creature. You could have any male you wanted."
"Respect," she answered. "Which is what you lack, you sick freak."
"Don't fight it any more than you have to," Igor remarked, twirling his wand and causing the cloak to tear from her body, exposing her to the cold December air. He leaned close to her, his fingertips tracing her jaw and throat. "We're the same, you know. Both touched by Darkness. Our humanity will be gone before you know it and we will not able to ... enjoy such things without it being tainted and terrible."
"And this isn't?" Martis desperately forced herself to move, but the body lock hex prevented a single muscle from twitching.
"Once we are Called, there will be no more Innocence. It will be lost to you." His fingers brushed the neckline of her gown down her shoulders, exposing her skin to the cold.
"You do know you can't rape me while I'm hexed with this, you'll damage yourself."
Igor shook his head, pressing a fingertip to her lips, his other hand tearing the neck drape of her gown down the front of her body. "It's nothing as common as 'rape'."
She screamed as his hands touched her.
"Scream all you want, nobody will - "
ZARK!
The Protection Spells around the school were very precise. Unlike Slytherin, where simple acts and thoughts could trigger them, the rest of the school permitted the usual showings of gentle affection between students.
However, the school was built during a time of Crusades, Viking raids, and warring armies. The possibility of rape was real and would not be tolerated - the four founders were very clear that any student under their care would be protected from such horrors.
Martis fell to the ground when the flaming spear of energy tore through the air and slammed into Igor Karkaroff, breaking his concentration at the same time as the spear pinned him by the shoulder into a stone bench.
"I - WILL - KILL - YOU!" Martis cried, sitting up and pulling her skirt back enough for her to retrieve her wand from her boot.
Several people ran out, having heard the clap of thunder from the activation of the anti-rape spell; taking in the scene of Martis' dress half off and the magical flaming spear pinning Igor by the shoulder, the split-second of shock allowed Sev to push his way to the front.
Sev's face flushed white and his wand slipped down his sleeve and into his hand. In a cold, emotionless voice he stated, "Pray, you bastard."
Black and silver energy crackled about his body as the unholy winds of Dark Magic swirled about him. Raising his wand, the Dark energies focused on him, creating a maelstrom around his body as he incanted the names of the Dark Angels of Vengeance and Destruction:
"Abaddon ... Asmodeus ... Barkiel ... "
"Severus!" Dumbledore yelled. "DON'T SUMMON THEM!"
"Eiael ... Guziel ... Hemah ... "
The tall windows of the Great Hall shattered outward, raining down on the courtyard and Rose Gardens. Students screamed and ran. The adults spread out through the Rose Gardens and circled the Dark teenager.
"Imamiah ... Kemuel - "
"Severus!" Martis cried.
At least two dozen silencing charms struck Severus Snape at once, knocking him unconscious from the circled impact.
Dead silence followed, save for the sound of two wands clattering to the stone ground.
Once everyone's eyes refocused, they stared at a sobbing Britomartis Vox holding an unconscious Severus Snape's head in her lap. Near them, their wands lay crosswise on the ground as the Dark energies flittered around them then finally faded into the fabric of space.
Headmistress Auttenbaum approached Igor Karkaroff, her school's Champion writhing in pain from the spear. She spat down at his face, then kicked the magical spear with her boot and causing him to shriek in pain.
"You're disqualified."
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Dumbledore, Auttenbaum, and Flavert were in the Hogwarts Headmaster's office just after midnight.
"The students of my school now know what happened," Dumbledore said quietly.
"I am aware," Auttenbaum stated. "Due to the horrendous conduct of my Champion, I voluntarily resign my school from the Tournament." Her eyes became even colder. "And punish him properly outside the jurisdiction of the Ministry." She gazed back up at Dumbledore. "I thank you for your hospitality, Albus, but I am quite sure there is a lynch mob forming at this moment - I must protect the rest of my students. Elbucsuzik vkitol."
Several of the portraits made raspberry noises at her.
Gertenguarde Attenbaum left the office, her black fur-trimmed robes being the last the two other Headmasters saw of her until that day in 1980 when parts of her dismembered corpse washed up in Nova Scotia.
Both men shook their heads of the vision. Malfada Hopkirk and Jocunda Sykes entered the office. "You do know," Madame Hopkirk said. "That the Tournament will be canceled due to this - "
"Sick freak," Madame Sykes added.
The portraits mumbled in agreement.
"Yes, ladies," Dumbledore agreed. "The circumstances demand it, and it may be well that this tournament be struck from public record."
"Sounds reasonable," Madame Hopkirk agreed. "After all, this transgression completely defeated the purpose of the tournament to begin with."
Dumbledore glanced toward the small man. "Professor Flavert?"
The Headmaster of Beauxbatons nodded. "Yes, of course, I agree completely. If you will, Professor Dumbledore, my students will leave in the morning when we're more refreshed."
"Yes, Orlando, that would be fine."
"Then good night to you, Albus. I hope your students recover from this trauma."
Headmaster Flavert bowed cordially to the lady judges, then left the office. Madame Sykes also gave her regards for the welfare of the students involved and followed him.
Madame Hopkirk's brow wrinkled. "That boy used Dark magic."
The portraits quieted, which gave the room an odd silence.
Dumbledore knew she was referring to his student. "Severus is a Dark Child, Malfada."
"I expected it from Durmstrang, but not from here."
A portrait of a headmaster with a walrus mustache cleared his throat, "Of course we don't teach such things here, Madame! Except for Nigellus, there - "
Phineas Nigellus' portrait squawked in reply and he left his painting to confront the headmaster with the walrus mustache.
Dumbledore ignored the portraits taking bets, and rounded his desk. "It is nothing we teach at this school, I assure you. That child came here with more Dark Arts crammed into his head that any person three times his age had any business knowing."
"Poor child," one of the headmistresses sighed.
Madame Hopkirk's face turned white. "Then - !"
Dumbledore raised his hand to silence the Head of Misuse of Magic. "Malfada, we are doing all we can to help that child purge the Darkness. We are fighting for his soul."
Her brows lowered over her eyes. "Please continue to do so, then. You-Know-Who is rumored to be looking for these Dark Wizarding children."
Dumbledore's blue eyes hardened. "This is one child he will not claim."
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No one was sure who started the mob or what their actual numbers were. Most were quite sure it was comprised of Slytherins, although there were sightings of scarlet, blue, and yellow robe linings in the mob.
The Durmstrang ship was sinking into the lake by the time every single person within the mob whipped their wands out and incanted at once, "INFLATIO!"
When the topmost of the highest mast sank, the collected mob smiled grimly to itself, then turned back to the castle to the quiet applause of other students and a few faculty members (they might have been faculty, especially the one in the tartan cloak).
Everyone on the enclosed Durmstrang ship became sick with the expelled gases from their digestive tracts.
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Professor Sartoris scribbled his signature on the report, then hurried to the Owlery and picked an owl at random to deliver the message to his Master.
This night's events were going to blow up in their faces if the boy continued on this route. He had no control over him. And once that boy woke up and Dumbledore began talking to him about what happened, Hell was going to break loose like a hungry dragon.
He released the owl into the night.
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