Chapter 7: Revision
That afternoon Draco and Vox returned to classes. They had not been visited by Snape or the headmaster, though Vox was convinced that it was only a matter of time. The pair avoided running into anyone as they made their way up to Defence Against the Dark Arts. That year, no suitable teacher had been found to take the subject and so the classes were on a rota with other teachers. This month it was Snape that was taking our class for potions.
"Revision," he snapped, "Boggarts. I have one and you are all to face it in turn." Snape never was one to mince his words, "Zabini's up first."
Once released from it's box, the boggart emerged as a very large and rather interesting tiger that scared Blaise senseless before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. The tiger lost all its fur at the wave of a wand. At the back of the room, Draco was hurriedly trying to explain to Vox what was expected of him.
"Draco!"
The blond haired boy flinched, expecting Snape to call him up to face the boggart. Instead Snape pointed to Vox.
"His turn."
Vox stepped forwards to face the boggart which had just been turned into a zombie in failed designer clothing by Pansy and the creature vanished.
The class as a whole jumped, looking very surprised. Snape looked slightly confused. No, not vanished. The boggart was there, mist around Vox's feet. The snake boy was shivering violently. The boggart changed again, a man, a human holding a long knife in one hand, gloating as he approached Vox.
"Now you dirty little devil child…" The rest was lost as the boggart changed again and again. Fast flash images each only lasting a few seconds. A black leviathan; a cage, empty and desolate; a wall of bright orange flame; mist curling close, cold; a man, snake like with orange scales wielding a pair of swords; a hoard of small beetle creatures that swarmed up over Vox's feet before vanishing; a great beast past way between a wolf and a cat with blue fur, roaring wide, jaws lined with three rows of two inch teeth; the man with the swords again, and Draco recognised the silver crest on his front before he vanished; another cage.
Then the images began flashing past too quick for the eye to catch and Vox, trembling on the floor, eyes wide with abject terror. Draco, who if he was truthful had never really had a friend who liked him for just being him, stepped forwards, wand in hand, to attract the boggart's attention. Snape flung out an arm to stop him.
"Professor!"
"Wait. Let him deal with it!"
"It'll kill him!" Draco said, the concern making a mockery of his usual drawl.
"Not if it can't decide on a shape it can't."
Draco turned his eyes back to his friend. Vox had curled over, a bundle of black robes, his long hair falling in his face. The boggart resumed the shape of the human with the knife and suddenly Vox was glowing. A net of fragmented emerald and ruby fire exploded outwards from his form, growing larger and engulfing the boggart and some of the students. It didn't hurt them but the creature let out a wild shriek and with a last bang dissolved into a pile of ash. Vox remained on the floor, immobile. Without a seconds hesitation Draco ran forwards.
"Vox!" he laid a pale hand on his friend's shoulder and Vox fell backwards, eye open and blank, out cold.
"Vox. Vox, wake up. It's time."
Vox opened his eyes to the familiar sight of his room lit by a deep orange glow from the eternal flames outside. His master was leaning over him, a hand on his shoulder. As his eyes opened the hand withdrew and Vox sat up and looked around.
The room was small but cosy. The bed, chest of drawers and a wardrobe. On the east wall was a large bay window with cream stone ledges on either side, worn smooth by generations of apprentices who had sat there and looked out on the view of Samith-Seth. Outside he could see the beginning of their flame corridor but little else from this angle. The red drapes around his bed swished as his Master withdrew to stand in the main part of the room.
Vox crawled out of bed, dragging a hand through his hair and flicking his long tail. His feet were bare on the stone floor, but the stone was warm, heated from underneath by the ever burning fires. He reached across to the chair where his clothes from yesterday were draped in a messy sort of charade of neatness.
"Wait."
Confused, Vox turned to his Master and looked up at the man. Like Vox, he was scaled and snake-like, but his scales were the hue and markings of a corn snake, red and orange with streaks of white and black. His hair was kept short and coloured like his scales and he regarded the young boy with amber eyes. His Master was perfectly dressed almost as though he were going to ceremony, the traditional garb of a Master Warrior mirroring the colours of his scales.
"Sir?"
"I have a present for you," it was then that Vox noticed the bundle under his aster arm, he frowned, "There is good news Vox. You are to be trained as a squire at arms."
"But I thought I was training to be a page?" asked the boy, confused by all this information so early in the morning.
The great Warrior tutted.
"You really think that they would let me train a page boy? I am a knight, such things are not for us. No lad, you are to be my apprentice and I will make you the finest warrior that ever lived."
"Truly sir?"
"Yes truly," The man leant over to ruffle the strands of Vox's hair, "now, a fast wash I think for you, and then this," He gestured to the parcel under his arm, "And then we must be off to your inauguration ceremony."
"Yes sir!"
Vox showered under the lava-heated water and returned drippy but scrupulously clean only a few minutes later. Master Arken tutted again, grabbed the towel from around Vox's shoulders and began to dry his hair. Vox stood silent while he did so, listening to his Master's good-natured grumbling. Finally done Arken stood him in front of the bed and turned him away from the mirror.
First came the trousers, tight fitting legging of supple black leather, waist to ankle with a hole in the back for his long tail to slip through. The boots were brown suede moccasins, coming up to his knees, soft and light and flexible. Then came the tunic. Soft flame red fabric, almost the colour of the ichor the people of Tueln-Tunth bled. A high collar with fitted sleeves that went down to his wrists. At his waist the fabric split into loose hanging front and back panels. Lastly there was a close fitting sleeves leather jerkin in black also, with a collar that closed up tight around his throat in thick protective bands.
"You will be presented with your rank knots at the ceremony," said Arken slowly. Vox felt that there was more to that statement but he could only watch as his mentor removed a far smaller package from the confines of his robes.
"I know that you are supposed to get your gloves at the ceremony too, but you are a special case Vox." The boy looked on as the package was opened in front of him, wondering. A warriors gloves denoted his skills. Archers used special gloves to protect their inner arm and their drawing fingers, fighters wore gloves that acted as shields also, and so on, but Vox had never seen a pair of gloves as glorious or as unique as the ones presented to him now.
Arken fitted them over his hands, and from his movements, reverent, Vox knew that his Master had made the gloves himself. The dark leather covered his two middle fingers entirely, leaving the index and little finger totally bare, and came up to the second knuckle on his thumbs. The gloves came just more than half way up his lower arms, almost to the elbow. On his palm, the material was cut and stitched in such a way as to give him perfect movement but on the back of the gloves were set little steel studs, shaped to increase the force of his punch if he so desired.
"I am to be fist fighter then?" He asked, only slightly disappointed.
Arken quickly shook his head.
"No lad, these are not a fighter's gloves. These are warrior's gloves. There is something in you that speaks an archer to me, and yet not. By my own pride I would want you to wield swords as I do, but that too is wrong. No, you shall see when we get to the ceremony."
Vox looked up at his Master and saw the smile in his eyes. The great man knelt then to look his charge levelly in the eyes.
"Vox. I am so proud of you. Your Father would have been proud of you too."
The young boy smiled, and knew it was true.
Vox lay in a bed in the hospital wing, eyes closed listening to the sounds of the voices around him. He drifted in and out of a warm hazy sleep, still clinging to the feel of his Master's touch, the love in his voice.
"Tell me again Mr. Malfoy," that was the headmaster's voice, "What happened to Vox. Speak slowly this time."
He heard Malfoy, closer to him, he sensed, take a deep breath before beginning and Vox heard the voice, lacking it's normal lazy drawl, tell the headmaster of the way the boggart creature had reacted to him and then of the fen-nire, the "net of broken fire" as Draco termed it, that had banished the boggart from existence.
He half heard Dumbledore's reply, interspersed with Snape's sharp tones before the bustling voice of Madam Pomfrey told them all that they must leave. Worried that his friend would be sent away Vox stretched out the fingers of one hand and they brushed, as he had expected against Draco's hand. Vox tightened his grip on the other boy as he felt Draco stand to move away, then stop and turn to him. Vox kept his eyes closed as quiet words were exchanged between the boy and the nurse and he felt Draco sit down again.
"Vox?" The word was whisper soft and Vox smiled, his own language, his name. Never had the single syllable sounded so warm and welcome, even though there was a world of question and concern in the voice.
"Yes?"
"Why…what…" Parcel tongue was failing Draco as he sat there, "What happened?" He murmured.
Vox rolled over still keeping a grip on the hand that now brushed against his face.
"I am one of the Kamen-Rah. The Damned."
The next day Madam Pomfrey was very reluctant to let Vox go, despite the boy's protests that he was fine and felt perfectly well. Eventually however, since she received no further orders for the headmaster she was forced to let Vox attended class when Draco and the rest of the sixth year Slytherin boys came to fetch him.
Class that dat passed without any problems and Vox and Draco began to hope that maybe the details of what had passed between the sea serpent and the snake-boy had not reached his ears, and maybe never would.
It was a false hope however as ten minutes before the end of double potions, the last lesson, one of the headmaster's owls arrived bearing a note which commanded Vox to go to Dumbledore's office. A look passed between the boy and his companion and before Snape had time to even stop him, Vox fled from the room, and it was clear from the look on his face that he was not going anywhere near the office.
Vox raised jade gold eyes from his feet to see the dark haired figure of Harry Potter standing in the snow just beyond the trees. When the note from Dumbledore had come and Vox had ran he had gone straight out into the grounds, ignoring the cold as best he could and tracking clear to the edge of the forest. The canopy of braches meant that no snow had fallen here and it was mildly warmer, but Vox was shivering, teeth chattering.
"Vox…"The snake boy shivered and drew his arms tighter around his knees. The only look he could remember was that one of dismissal.
"I'm sorry Vox." There was a crunching sound as the snow was crushed under Harry's boots. He took a few steps forward, then halted on the very edge of the forest, "I never meant to turn you away."
"Why should I forgive you?"
"Because I'm sorry."
"I know."
They were in silence for a while before Harry held out a hand towards the other boy.
"Come on, let's find you somewhere warm."