Be proud, I managed to tear myself away from Undocumented Features
(this is what, the eighth time I've read it?), just to write this
chapter. Yay!
Harry thinks oddly-- to himself, he thinks of Weapon as part of him, he jsut doesn't really realise that he thinks that. When he speaks outloud, he voices the fact that he believes them to be two separate entities in one body.
Schulyr- Celtic Music? Hmm, that's not one I thought of going with this
fic. Interesting that it fits.
Sometimes I wish I could write as much as my friend Leigh does for one
chapter. Then I realise the reason she can write so much for one
chapter is because she only releases it one chapter per week, despite
being three or four weeks ahead, just so she can spend time working on
perfecting every little detail. That's when I go "I like my way better,
because I have more fans that you do, nyah-nyah-na-nyah!" and run away
damned fast before Karate Master Leigh decides to Kung Fu my ass.
Itch definitely doesn't not have rights to anything Harry Potter-ish.
That's Rowling's thing.
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Sixteen: Draco
The Itch
---
As he'd been the first to find the power, so was he the first to
awaken.
Mind spinning and churning, the rippling whisper of power rushing
through his skull and turning his thoughts inwards, Draco Malfoy
attempted to sit up. Key word being attempted.
He was halfway to a sitting position when his arms gave out, and his
head hit the ground with a resounding smack. He yelped a bit, wincing
as he did so, as it sent a spike of pain through his cranium, mingling
with the now laughing power.
Wait a second... laughing?
That was indeed laughter rushing through the power that had drowned
him, and rebirthed him. He paused, frowning at the thought. Rebirth?
Was that what had happened to him. He clenched his fists, then uncurled
his fingers one-by-one, oddly enough feeling the pull of his muscles as
he did so. It was an odd sensation, not one he was familiar with.
"Well, well, looks like you're up, Dragon-boy," came the far to
familiar chuckle of one Harry Potter. He slit open a steel-grey eye to
peer up into maliciously sparkling emerald eyes. He drew his lips back
in a snarl, growling, "Get out of my face, Potter!"
"Nice teeth," the smirk on Harry's face widened into a grin, and Draco
was a bit startled to find that the shadows that had shaded his face
were moving and dancing in the air around his instructor and sort-of
friend, "Sharp and pointy."
He let what Potter said sink in for a few minutes, before sluggishly
blinking, going "huh?" and running his tongue over his teeth. A small
yelp of pain was uttered when he realised that he did, indeed, have
quite the set of fangs now, and he could taste the faintly iron taste
of veela blood beneath the startlingly powerful taste of potassium. Why
did his blood taste like potassium?
"The power alters us to fit it's needs," hummed the older Weapon.
"The bloody hell...?"
Green eyes flashed to silver, and Draco started. He had never seen the
transformation happen so quickly, at least, without Potter blinking.
The monotone voice of the other Weapon was surprisingly silky, "Harry
and I shift between forms. That is our alteration."
"'Our'?" quoth the teenager, utterly confused.
"Our," repeated Weapon, "We are of the shadows. You... we do not know."
Draco rolled his eyes, fairly annoyed. Yeah, dealing with Harry was
dangerous, and potentially lethal, but dealing with this silver-eyed
man was just plain frustrating. He was safer, if only because he spoke
what he meant, did what he said, and never wasted speech nor movement.
In short, he was an emotionless bastard who got right to the point
without bothering with the journey.
Weapon pulled away and went to check the other two, to see if they had
emerged from their own mental rebirthing, and Draco decided to
catalogue all the changes to himself that he could. First things first,
his eyes turned to the physical. Generally speaking, there was little
change to his body at first glance. At second, the way his fingers
tapered into ice-pale claws was a bit shocking. He also appeared to
have a thin layer of silvery-white scales instead of body hair, which
was at the same time both interesting and annoying.
Another new feature was the fact that he had a tail. For what reason
could there possibly be for him having a tail? And it wasn't the kind
of soft, fluffy tails one imagines when they think of people with
tails. This was a three foot length of white and silver scales, tipped
by a jagged blade. At least his school robes would be able to hide the
damned thing.
It would be a bit harder to hide the fact that he had four boney
protrusions extending from each shoulder blade. They were approximately
three inches in length, and apparently razor sharp. Great, he was a
walking blade.
After griping to himself about physical changes for a few minutes-- and
wondering why Bloody Potter didn't have any physical changes-- Malfoy
finally turned to his psychological changes. The first and most
important thing in his mind was the fact that he knew how to use his
new bodily weapons without ever having to learn anything. It might take
awhile to ingrain the thoughts and ideas into instinct, but he at least
didn't have to experiment just to figure out the basics.
Following that was the odd sensation of knowing he could channel
wizarding magicks through his tail, claws and spine with nary a though.
All this became known to him by the silken, whispering voice of the
power that hummed in his ear.
That voice... was it why Harry was spacey and a bit of a lunatic at
times? Was that the truth behind the power of the Weapons-- that it
drove you insane by whispering in your ear at all times? It was already
telling him that he needed to get up and hunt, that his prey would not
wait for him.
It was also telling him that Harry was a dangerous, dangerous being,
and it was better to have the man on his side. Although, the power did
not call Harry a man-- it called him the "Revered One". Odd that
something that is pure energy would call a mortal being revered.
He stood gracefully, the blades extending from his shoulder blades
twitching as he stretched. It would take awhile to get used to those.
Draco noted with faint amusement, that would likely have been outrage
prior to his first channeling, that his clothing had been burned away
in the rush of power. Cool silver eyes watched him from the shadows as
Potter stood from checking up on Sirius. The was nary an emotion in
those eyes, as Weapon tilted his head.
"Summon something to wear," the monotone commanded, the shadow-wrapped
figure drifting closer. Eyes of steel melted into eyes of emerald, and
he clapped a hand on Draco's shoulder, careful not to cut himself on
the blades, "Then try channeling again. Maybe you'll learn something. I
doubt it though."
He chuckled, moving away from the now scowling youth. Potter scratched
the runes into the air again, strengthening his counter wards, and
began to play with the shadows.
---
In a flurry of movement, Ron flew out the doors of Hogwarts. He'd
checked all of Ginny's, and all of Harry's, usual haunts, but neither
was around. He knew there was trouble going on, and when he found those
two...
"Blood hell mate," he spat, "you better have a soddin' good reason for
this!" cloak swirling around his pajama-clad form, the second youngest
Weasley pounded across the grass out to the Quidditch Pitch. After
that, he'd check Hagrid's hut, and the Shrieking Shack.
If they weren't injured when he found them, they definitely weren't
going to be going back to the castle without a good number of bruises
for worrying him!
---
Draco's head snapped up, attention drawn away from re-fixing the
Stallion Blades to his arms, turning in the direction that was Hogwarts
as something... new came into his senses. He didn't understand the
information the power was feeding him-- it was a confusing melee of
sensory input he couldn't possibly know, ways to confront whatever was
coming, and thoughts of how this new thing was prey.
"Easy there, Draco," Harry muttered, having turned towards the
sensations he was receiving. He had had months of training before he
went back into wizarding and muggle society, so as not to lose control.
Draco would be heading into the population of Hogwarts later that day.
Well... it should prove for some interesting confrontations...
In any case, Harry had more practice reigning in the thoughts that the
power invoked in him. That was part of the secret as to why Weapons
were such impressive killers-- the knowledge of how to defeat an
opponent was directly feed into their minds. Against muggles, it would
be a slaughter. Against Wizards, a one-sided battle that would
ultimately result in the wizard's death. Against other Weapons, it
would prove to be a fight worth seeing.
Death, mayhem and destruction in an intricate dance.
"What the hell is that?" growled the scaled boy, his tail twitching
irritably as his lips pulled back into a snarling grimace of trying to
control the power's want for a hunt.
"That, Dragon-boy, is what our power feels when something human enters
it's range-- the castle has wards up to prevent our senses from
extending within it."
Narrowed, cat-slitted eyes of ash turned to meet amused emerald, "Why
the hell doesn't it react to _you_ then, Potter? You're human!"
He smirked.
"I never said I was human, now did I?"
---
End Chapter
Damn, but I like Draco. He seems to be getting a lot of scenes.
Hopefully next chapter we'll get to Sirius and Virginia waking up. And
Ron finding them. Cross your fingers though, because it's likely to be
doubtful. We should all know by now how my mind gets on one track and
completely deviates from the pre-made plan.
And it seems like the wards do more than just seal away his power and
Weapon, hmm? Anyone want to offer suggestions for what our dearest
Weapon physically looks like? I'm scrounging for ideas. No worries just
yet, though. It won't be for a while that we find out what he appears
like.
The wards need to be removed first, after all!
(this is what, the eighth time I've read it?), just to write this
chapter. Yay!
Harry thinks oddly-- to himself, he thinks of Weapon as part of him, he jsut doesn't really realise that he thinks that. When he speaks outloud, he voices the fact that he believes them to be two separate entities in one body.
Schulyr- Celtic Music? Hmm, that's not one I thought of going with this
fic. Interesting that it fits.
Sometimes I wish I could write as much as my friend Leigh does for one
chapter. Then I realise the reason she can write so much for one
chapter is because she only releases it one chapter per week, despite
being three or four weeks ahead, just so she can spend time working on
perfecting every little detail. That's when I go "I like my way better,
because I have more fans that you do, nyah-nyah-na-nyah!" and run away
damned fast before Karate Master Leigh decides to Kung Fu my ass.
Itch definitely doesn't not have rights to anything Harry Potter-ish.
That's Rowling's thing.
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Sixteen: Draco
The Itch
---
As he'd been the first to find the power, so was he the first to
awaken.
Mind spinning and churning, the rippling whisper of power rushing
through his skull and turning his thoughts inwards, Draco Malfoy
attempted to sit up. Key word being attempted.
He was halfway to a sitting position when his arms gave out, and his
head hit the ground with a resounding smack. He yelped a bit, wincing
as he did so, as it sent a spike of pain through his cranium, mingling
with the now laughing power.
Wait a second... laughing?
That was indeed laughter rushing through the power that had drowned
him, and rebirthed him. He paused, frowning at the thought. Rebirth?
Was that what had happened to him. He clenched his fists, then uncurled
his fingers one-by-one, oddly enough feeling the pull of his muscles as
he did so. It was an odd sensation, not one he was familiar with.
"Well, well, looks like you're up, Dragon-boy," came the far to
familiar chuckle of one Harry Potter. He slit open a steel-grey eye to
peer up into maliciously sparkling emerald eyes. He drew his lips back
in a snarl, growling, "Get out of my face, Potter!"
"Nice teeth," the smirk on Harry's face widened into a grin, and Draco
was a bit startled to find that the shadows that had shaded his face
were moving and dancing in the air around his instructor and sort-of
friend, "Sharp and pointy."
He let what Potter said sink in for a few minutes, before sluggishly
blinking, going "huh?" and running his tongue over his teeth. A small
yelp of pain was uttered when he realised that he did, indeed, have
quite the set of fangs now, and he could taste the faintly iron taste
of veela blood beneath the startlingly powerful taste of potassium. Why
did his blood taste like potassium?
"The power alters us to fit it's needs," hummed the older Weapon.
"The bloody hell...?"
Green eyes flashed to silver, and Draco started. He had never seen the
transformation happen so quickly, at least, without Potter blinking.
The monotone voice of the other Weapon was surprisingly silky, "Harry
and I shift between forms. That is our alteration."
"'Our'?" quoth the teenager, utterly confused.
"Our," repeated Weapon, "We are of the shadows. You... we do not know."
Draco rolled his eyes, fairly annoyed. Yeah, dealing with Harry was
dangerous, and potentially lethal, but dealing with this silver-eyed
man was just plain frustrating. He was safer, if only because he spoke
what he meant, did what he said, and never wasted speech nor movement.
In short, he was an emotionless bastard who got right to the point
without bothering with the journey.
Weapon pulled away and went to check the other two, to see if they had
emerged from their own mental rebirthing, and Draco decided to
catalogue all the changes to himself that he could. First things first,
his eyes turned to the physical. Generally speaking, there was little
change to his body at first glance. At second, the way his fingers
tapered into ice-pale claws was a bit shocking. He also appeared to
have a thin layer of silvery-white scales instead of body hair, which
was at the same time both interesting and annoying.
Another new feature was the fact that he had a tail. For what reason
could there possibly be for him having a tail? And it wasn't the kind
of soft, fluffy tails one imagines when they think of people with
tails. This was a three foot length of white and silver scales, tipped
by a jagged blade. At least his school robes would be able to hide the
damned thing.
It would be a bit harder to hide the fact that he had four boney
protrusions extending from each shoulder blade. They were approximately
three inches in length, and apparently razor sharp. Great, he was a
walking blade.
After griping to himself about physical changes for a few minutes-- and
wondering why Bloody Potter didn't have any physical changes-- Malfoy
finally turned to his psychological changes. The first and most
important thing in his mind was the fact that he knew how to use his
new bodily weapons without ever having to learn anything. It might take
awhile to ingrain the thoughts and ideas into instinct, but he at least
didn't have to experiment just to figure out the basics.
Following that was the odd sensation of knowing he could channel
wizarding magicks through his tail, claws and spine with nary a though.
All this became known to him by the silken, whispering voice of the
power that hummed in his ear.
That voice... was it why Harry was spacey and a bit of a lunatic at
times? Was that the truth behind the power of the Weapons-- that it
drove you insane by whispering in your ear at all times? It was already
telling him that he needed to get up and hunt, that his prey would not
wait for him.
It was also telling him that Harry was a dangerous, dangerous being,
and it was better to have the man on his side. Although, the power did
not call Harry a man-- it called him the "Revered One". Odd that
something that is pure energy would call a mortal being revered.
He stood gracefully, the blades extending from his shoulder blades
twitching as he stretched. It would take awhile to get used to those.
Draco noted with faint amusement, that would likely have been outrage
prior to his first channeling, that his clothing had been burned away
in the rush of power. Cool silver eyes watched him from the shadows as
Potter stood from checking up on Sirius. The was nary an emotion in
those eyes, as Weapon tilted his head.
"Summon something to wear," the monotone commanded, the shadow-wrapped
figure drifting closer. Eyes of steel melted into eyes of emerald, and
he clapped a hand on Draco's shoulder, careful not to cut himself on
the blades, "Then try channeling again. Maybe you'll learn something. I
doubt it though."
He chuckled, moving away from the now scowling youth. Potter scratched
the runes into the air again, strengthening his counter wards, and
began to play with the shadows.
---
In a flurry of movement, Ron flew out the doors of Hogwarts. He'd
checked all of Ginny's, and all of Harry's, usual haunts, but neither
was around. He knew there was trouble going on, and when he found those
two...
"Blood hell mate," he spat, "you better have a soddin' good reason for
this!" cloak swirling around his pajama-clad form, the second youngest
Weasley pounded across the grass out to the Quidditch Pitch. After
that, he'd check Hagrid's hut, and the Shrieking Shack.
If they weren't injured when he found them, they definitely weren't
going to be going back to the castle without a good number of bruises
for worrying him!
---
Draco's head snapped up, attention drawn away from re-fixing the
Stallion Blades to his arms, turning in the direction that was Hogwarts
as something... new came into his senses. He didn't understand the
information the power was feeding him-- it was a confusing melee of
sensory input he couldn't possibly know, ways to confront whatever was
coming, and thoughts of how this new thing was prey.
"Easy there, Draco," Harry muttered, having turned towards the
sensations he was receiving. He had had months of training before he
went back into wizarding and muggle society, so as not to lose control.
Draco would be heading into the population of Hogwarts later that day.
Well... it should prove for some interesting confrontations...
In any case, Harry had more practice reigning in the thoughts that the
power invoked in him. That was part of the secret as to why Weapons
were such impressive killers-- the knowledge of how to defeat an
opponent was directly feed into their minds. Against muggles, it would
be a slaughter. Against Wizards, a one-sided battle that would
ultimately result in the wizard's death. Against other Weapons, it
would prove to be a fight worth seeing.
Death, mayhem and destruction in an intricate dance.
"What the hell is that?" growled the scaled boy, his tail twitching
irritably as his lips pulled back into a snarling grimace of trying to
control the power's want for a hunt.
"That, Dragon-boy, is what our power feels when something human enters
it's range-- the castle has wards up to prevent our senses from
extending within it."
Narrowed, cat-slitted eyes of ash turned to meet amused emerald, "Why
the hell doesn't it react to _you_ then, Potter? You're human!"
He smirked.
"I never said I was human, now did I?"
---
End Chapter
Damn, but I like Draco. He seems to be getting a lot of scenes.
Hopefully next chapter we'll get to Sirius and Virginia waking up. And
Ron finding them. Cross your fingers though, because it's likely to be
doubtful. We should all know by now how my mind gets on one track and
completely deviates from the pre-made plan.
And it seems like the wards do more than just seal away his power and
Weapon, hmm? Anyone want to offer suggestions for what our dearest
Weapon physically looks like? I'm scrounging for ideas. No worries just
yet, though. It won't be for a while that we find out what he appears
like.
The wards need to be removed first, after all!