Well, Win98 has been fully installed, and I have a brand spankin' new
monitor just for my computer. It's nice not having to read everything
in shades of yellow any more.
LK of Kennan - Awww, I only update three chapters a week... and I only
do so because if I didn't, the ideas would kill me. They just... jump
me, come friday night, and I have to sit down and type them all out
^_____^
As for how long it's going to take to get to New Years... Hmmm...
I dunno! No real plans, actually. And to be truthful, I want to get to
New Years as fast as everyone else, but the ideas may not agree with
us. *shrugs*
Once again, The Itch holds no rights to anything related to Harry
Potter.
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Twenty-Six: Wraith
The Itch
---
When Hermione finally crawled into bed that night, she had a lot on her
mind. First and foremost were the changes Harry had gone through in the
year he'd been absent from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
His moods and personality would teeter and tip, changing with even the
breeze outside the castle walls for all she knew. He was touched in the
head, she believed the Muggle saying went.
And now he had both Ginny and Draco following in his footsteps. Ginny
she could understand, what with the crush the girl had once had on the
only surviving Potter, but... Malfoy?
On top of it all was what he'd told them just before dinner that day.
His ideas of this great "balance", wherein muggle and wizard, elf and
human, mortals and immortals would all live together, united under one
ruler. There would be civil battles, as Harry could never believe in a
world without war, he'd told them, but the battles would not be of the
"good verus evil" and "Dark verus Light" that every child grew up on.
No, these battles would be idea against idea, and he refused to allow
someone to think otherwise. To him, if the "mini-wars", as he had
called them, got to far out of hand a few members of his own personal
little underground would step in and resolve the fight in the most
simplistic way.
Slaughter everyone. On both sides.
She felt a chill run down her back as she realized that Harry was
planning to set his Balance into motion by the end of her sixth year.
To side with anyone but Harry would mean death, as all three of the
youths had quite deliberately told her. By the end of Potter's lecture
on what his Balance would be like, she had understood why Dumbledore
and the other Professors had placed the sealing wards on her once best
friend.
There was a pit in her stomach as she pondered what to do.
One thing she knew, however, was that she could not tell anyone. That
much had been made clear to her. To tell could possibly send Harry off
the deep end before she could find help for his mental instability. She
would have to keep a close eye on him.
And on Professor Wolfos, her mind supplied. The older man had taken a
shine to Harry, and then, a few weeks later, Draco. It followed her
time line for about when the boys became friends. Obviously, Professor
Wolfos had some sort of vested interest in them. What it was, she
didn't quite know yet, but that hardly meant she wouldn't find out at
some point or another.
Hopefully before New Years, when Harry got the wards off and set his
plans in motion.
---
The focus of her thoughts was currently settling down for a quick nap
in the Gryffindor Common Room before he would head out to meet with his
own trainer in the art of being a Living Weapon. Emerald eyes slipped
shut, and he snuggled into the couch, wrapping his ever-present
Invisibility Cloak about himself, incase McGongall decided to check in
on her House. It wouldn't do to be found napping on the couch.
Sleep claimed him, but while his body may have been resting, his mind
sprang to life, gleefully slipping and sliding down the track that lead
from his Curse Scar, to the man who made it. He never had any control
over the visions of what exactly Tom "Lord Voldemort" Riddle was doing,
he only knew that if Tom was in a certain mood, he could slip into the
man's reality as an astral projection.
It was really quite interesting, if you thought about it one way, and
quite annoying if you thought in a different way. Potter thought of it
as annoying because he couldn't actually control the visions; which
would have been a great help. Then he could at least spy on the
muggle-hating fool and learn something important for once.
As per usual for these visions-- it was actually very rare that Harry
would see a Deatheater meeting, simply because the emotion needed to
make the switch into viewing the present of the dark lord was,
surprisingly, contentment-- he found himself within Riddle's
bedchambers, watching the man sleep. It was vaguely annoying.
"Careful, Harry," Weapon's monotone came from his side, and Harry
turned to face an almost mirror image of himself. Weapon stood in his
most human form beside him. Normally, Weapon and Harry couldn't have
possibly stood together, but this was an astral projection.
Weapon actually had three forms he could shift into-- the one he chose
to wear at the moment was of a seven foot tall wraith in a black cloak.
Silver eyes peered emotionlessly out from beneath wispy silver bangs,
fangs prominent in his mouth, and skin tone pale. Through his
chin-length locks, the long, slender elven ears he sported were
visible.
Harry knew that this was as close as Weapon could get to being human,
without shifting control over to Harry, and said nothing about his
appearance. Besides, he'd gotten used to it.
However, just looking at the railing thin man, Harry's mind drifted
past the sleeping Riddle and towards Draco, Ginny, and Sirius. They
must have multiple forms, as well. He would assume Draco had a fully
Draconic form, and Virginia some sort of large bird, while Sirius would
likely add a Fennec to his form of the Grim. They likely had another,
closer to human form, like Weapon did, as well. He just wondered what
they looked like.
Oh, well, it didn't really matter any ways. He'd find out soon enough.
Oh, look, Riddle was waking up. How... delightful. The snake-faced man
yawned, and stretched, cracking his back and lifting his favorite
stuffed animal out of his lap. Then his eyes turned to the empty
fireplace not three feet from where he had been sleeping.
To Harry's surprise, a flame with eyes of shadow within suddenly
flickered into existence. Had he been truly with Riddle, he wold not
have been able to see the flame. However, he was just a projection, and
could thus see it very well. Weapon cursed.
Weapon cursing was far from a normal thing, since the man was normally
stoic and unemotional. The young Potter turned to his other half,
"Something the matter?"
"That's the Power, Harry. Can you not feel it? Riddle is a Living
Weapon!"
Potter blinked, even as he felt the world fade, as his body awoke from
it's slumber. His last words to Weapon, prior to coming back into the
land of the waking, were "Well, that would explain how he never seemed
to fuckin' _die_."
Cracking an emerald eye open, he found himself being shaken by
Virginia.
"Gwah...? What'zit?"
"Glad to have you awake," muttered the Weasley, "We've got a problem.
Something's wrong with Malfoy."
"A problem?" startled, Potter leapt to his feet, "He's in the dungeons,
right?"
"That's what the Spirits say," nodded the fifteen year old, "He's in
his room, but something-- we don't know what-- is wrong." She was
trying not to let any worry enter her voice. Even if she and Draco
didn't actually get along-- being Baldy and The It-- she had grown
somewhat attached to him.
He was her punching bag, after all. She didn't want to get a new one.
Swirling his cloak up around them-- and making a mental note to ask
Ginny how she knew where he was when he'd been sleeping under it-- the
pair made their way out of their Commons, and headed to the stairs.
Harry wondered how many times Draco was going to get in trouble, and
need him to get out of it. He also hoped nothing was seriously wrong
with Malfoy. It had been weeks since he'd been changed by the Power.
He couldn't possibly be having a negative reaction to it _now_. All the
muggle Weapons that had died from trying to harness the power had died
within seventy-two hours of the transformation.
Right, with a nod he firmed himself. It had been more than seventy-two
hours. A lot more. He couldn't possibly be having an adverse reaction
to it. Nope.
He'd probably just caught some form of Dragon-flu. That's all.
---
End Chapter
A tiny taste of Weapon's other form. It's not the "real" form (if
you'll notice, he's lacking his tail, among other things). At least
you know how tall he is, now. Can you imagine how annoying it must be
for the emotionless wonder? Normally seven feet tall, trapped in
Harry's five foot six/five foot seven frame.
And now you'll just have to wait until tomorrow to find out what's
wrong with Malfoy. And if Potter will remember to inform his teammates
that Riddle happens to be a Weapon, just like them.
monitor just for my computer. It's nice not having to read everything
in shades of yellow any more.
LK of Kennan - Awww, I only update three chapters a week... and I only
do so because if I didn't, the ideas would kill me. They just... jump
me, come friday night, and I have to sit down and type them all out
^_____^
As for how long it's going to take to get to New Years... Hmmm...
I dunno! No real plans, actually. And to be truthful, I want to get to
New Years as fast as everyone else, but the ideas may not agree with
us. *shrugs*
Once again, The Itch holds no rights to anything related to Harry
Potter.
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Twenty-Six: Wraith
The Itch
---
When Hermione finally crawled into bed that night, she had a lot on her
mind. First and foremost were the changes Harry had gone through in the
year he'd been absent from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
His moods and personality would teeter and tip, changing with even the
breeze outside the castle walls for all she knew. He was touched in the
head, she believed the Muggle saying went.
And now he had both Ginny and Draco following in his footsteps. Ginny
she could understand, what with the crush the girl had once had on the
only surviving Potter, but... Malfoy?
On top of it all was what he'd told them just before dinner that day.
His ideas of this great "balance", wherein muggle and wizard, elf and
human, mortals and immortals would all live together, united under one
ruler. There would be civil battles, as Harry could never believe in a
world without war, he'd told them, but the battles would not be of the
"good verus evil" and "Dark verus Light" that every child grew up on.
No, these battles would be idea against idea, and he refused to allow
someone to think otherwise. To him, if the "mini-wars", as he had
called them, got to far out of hand a few members of his own personal
little underground would step in and resolve the fight in the most
simplistic way.
Slaughter everyone. On both sides.
She felt a chill run down her back as she realized that Harry was
planning to set his Balance into motion by the end of her sixth year.
To side with anyone but Harry would mean death, as all three of the
youths had quite deliberately told her. By the end of Potter's lecture
on what his Balance would be like, she had understood why Dumbledore
and the other Professors had placed the sealing wards on her once best
friend.
There was a pit in her stomach as she pondered what to do.
One thing she knew, however, was that she could not tell anyone. That
much had been made clear to her. To tell could possibly send Harry off
the deep end before she could find help for his mental instability. She
would have to keep a close eye on him.
And on Professor Wolfos, her mind supplied. The older man had taken a
shine to Harry, and then, a few weeks later, Draco. It followed her
time line for about when the boys became friends. Obviously, Professor
Wolfos had some sort of vested interest in them. What it was, she
didn't quite know yet, but that hardly meant she wouldn't find out at
some point or another.
Hopefully before New Years, when Harry got the wards off and set his
plans in motion.
---
The focus of her thoughts was currently settling down for a quick nap
in the Gryffindor Common Room before he would head out to meet with his
own trainer in the art of being a Living Weapon. Emerald eyes slipped
shut, and he snuggled into the couch, wrapping his ever-present
Invisibility Cloak about himself, incase McGongall decided to check in
on her House. It wouldn't do to be found napping on the couch.
Sleep claimed him, but while his body may have been resting, his mind
sprang to life, gleefully slipping and sliding down the track that lead
from his Curse Scar, to the man who made it. He never had any control
over the visions of what exactly Tom "Lord Voldemort" Riddle was doing,
he only knew that if Tom was in a certain mood, he could slip into the
man's reality as an astral projection.
It was really quite interesting, if you thought about it one way, and
quite annoying if you thought in a different way. Potter thought of it
as annoying because he couldn't actually control the visions; which
would have been a great help. Then he could at least spy on the
muggle-hating fool and learn something important for once.
As per usual for these visions-- it was actually very rare that Harry
would see a Deatheater meeting, simply because the emotion needed to
make the switch into viewing the present of the dark lord was,
surprisingly, contentment-- he found himself within Riddle's
bedchambers, watching the man sleep. It was vaguely annoying.
"Careful, Harry," Weapon's monotone came from his side, and Harry
turned to face an almost mirror image of himself. Weapon stood in his
most human form beside him. Normally, Weapon and Harry couldn't have
possibly stood together, but this was an astral projection.
Weapon actually had three forms he could shift into-- the one he chose
to wear at the moment was of a seven foot tall wraith in a black cloak.
Silver eyes peered emotionlessly out from beneath wispy silver bangs,
fangs prominent in his mouth, and skin tone pale. Through his
chin-length locks, the long, slender elven ears he sported were
visible.
Harry knew that this was as close as Weapon could get to being human,
without shifting control over to Harry, and said nothing about his
appearance. Besides, he'd gotten used to it.
However, just looking at the railing thin man, Harry's mind drifted
past the sleeping Riddle and towards Draco, Ginny, and Sirius. They
must have multiple forms, as well. He would assume Draco had a fully
Draconic form, and Virginia some sort of large bird, while Sirius would
likely add a Fennec to his form of the Grim. They likely had another,
closer to human form, like Weapon did, as well. He just wondered what
they looked like.
Oh, well, it didn't really matter any ways. He'd find out soon enough.
Oh, look, Riddle was waking up. How... delightful. The snake-faced man
yawned, and stretched, cracking his back and lifting his favorite
stuffed animal out of his lap. Then his eyes turned to the empty
fireplace not three feet from where he had been sleeping.
To Harry's surprise, a flame with eyes of shadow within suddenly
flickered into existence. Had he been truly with Riddle, he wold not
have been able to see the flame. However, he was just a projection, and
could thus see it very well. Weapon cursed.
Weapon cursing was far from a normal thing, since the man was normally
stoic and unemotional. The young Potter turned to his other half,
"Something the matter?"
"That's the Power, Harry. Can you not feel it? Riddle is a Living
Weapon!"
Potter blinked, even as he felt the world fade, as his body awoke from
it's slumber. His last words to Weapon, prior to coming back into the
land of the waking, were "Well, that would explain how he never seemed
to fuckin' _die_."
Cracking an emerald eye open, he found himself being shaken by
Virginia.
"Gwah...? What'zit?"
"Glad to have you awake," muttered the Weasley, "We've got a problem.
Something's wrong with Malfoy."
"A problem?" startled, Potter leapt to his feet, "He's in the dungeons,
right?"
"That's what the Spirits say," nodded the fifteen year old, "He's in
his room, but something-- we don't know what-- is wrong." She was
trying not to let any worry enter her voice. Even if she and Draco
didn't actually get along-- being Baldy and The It-- she had grown
somewhat attached to him.
He was her punching bag, after all. She didn't want to get a new one.
Swirling his cloak up around them-- and making a mental note to ask
Ginny how she knew where he was when he'd been sleeping under it-- the
pair made their way out of their Commons, and headed to the stairs.
Harry wondered how many times Draco was going to get in trouble, and
need him to get out of it. He also hoped nothing was seriously wrong
with Malfoy. It had been weeks since he'd been changed by the Power.
He couldn't possibly be having a negative reaction to it _now_. All the
muggle Weapons that had died from trying to harness the power had died
within seventy-two hours of the transformation.
Right, with a nod he firmed himself. It had been more than seventy-two
hours. A lot more. He couldn't possibly be having an adverse reaction
to it. Nope.
He'd probably just caught some form of Dragon-flu. That's all.
---
End Chapter
A tiny taste of Weapon's other form. It's not the "real" form (if
you'll notice, he's lacking his tail, among other things). At least
you know how tall he is, now. Can you imagine how annoying it must be
for the emotionless wonder? Normally seven feet tall, trapped in
Harry's five foot six/five foot seven frame.
And now you'll just have to wait until tomorrow to find out what's
wrong with Malfoy. And if Potter will remember to inform his teammates
that Riddle happens to be a Weapon, just like them.