Er, sorry about this is a bit late! I was at another party last night.
It was just a small animethon/party deal, consisting of me, Leigh,
Silent Dragon, Leigh's "M-sama", Kris, Ali, and Greek Fate. Ali, M-sama
and I ended up passed out in the living room, while everyone else went
home ^o^;;
Applestraw - *stares at you for several minutes* ... er... here's
more...
xticy - Wow, you never review, but you reviewed my fic? That's so nice
^____^
howling wolf - I have evil plans for Wolfos, mwahahahahaha.
Black Rose - You're Welcome ^__^ You're a very hyper person, no??
Shila - I couldn't remember your quote off the top of my head, so it's
not in this chapter. I'll try for next chapter. :D
Soulless - And I thought I had problems when I checked a story every
six hours! *laughs* I'm glad you like it enough to check every hour for
a new chapter. You'd become a Weapon for me? Wheee! My own Weapon!
*grins*
We all know the disclaimer by now, right? Right??
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Thirty Four: Advancing
The Itch
---
The clash of metal on metal yanked Ron from his thoughts as Hermione
lead him through the Hogwarts ground to the Quidditch Pitch early the
morning following Harry and Draco's butter knife-fight. The youngest of
the male Weasleys turned his attention to the center of the pitch, and
nearly froze in shock.
Draco and Virginia leapt apart, Ginny swinging her Amazon Battle
Staff-- currently shaped into a massive double-handed broadsword that
she was using one handed-- up onto her shoulder, bracing it against her
neck and grinning widely. Her inch long hair waving in spiky chunks
around her face, eyes glinting with gleeful amusement. She was dressed
in a pair of white muggle shorts that were a bit loose, and belted
around the hips, as well as a silver muggle sleeveless top with a
zipper down the front that fit snugly against her throat.
Malfoy fell back into his own defensive stance, a pair of Katar in
hand, their wicked blades gleaming death. He, too, was dressed as a
muggle, his black jeans cutting off messily just above his black hiking
boots, a black t-shirt with red trim hugging his torso.
Both he and Virginia had weapons holsters, sheaths and scabbards
strapped wherever one could be strapped.
The stunned redhead could only gap in surprise as the two circled each
other, and he realized that both were decorated in lacerations--
bleeding lacerations. Hermione guided him carefully out of the
combatants' way, should the pair start really going at it.
"Well," Ron heard his sister laugh, "You certainly haven't lost your
edge."
"Glad to hear that," Malfoy mused, "I was so sure that I'd have lost it
with that month of no-practice."
"Let's see if your stamina is as good as your skill!" she roared,
swinging the blade off her shoulder, lunging at Draco. Lucius' son
pushed off the ground, feet smacking solidly against the blade as he
came down, and then pushed off again. Ginny had twisted the sword,
yanking it upwards, even as the massive blade shifted into a smaller,
single-handed long sword, in an attempt to skewer Malfoy on it's tip.
She just barely managed to move the sword from offensive to defensive,
halting Draco's vicious attack with his Katar, his newest weapon.
Throwing one of the Katar off his hand, the triangle shaped blade
sliced into the earth before coming to a halt at Hermione's feet. He
withdrew one of the Stallion Blades, splitting his attention between
the fight and Hak.
Virginia growled low in her throat, the long sword shifting into a
shield. As she blocked his strikes with both enchanted Stallion Blade,
and the single Katar that remained, she yanked one of her .9mm from her
pocket. It wasn't truly in her pocket, but strapped to her thigh, the
pocket itself having been removed in order to create a way to easily
withdraw her weapons.
Guns! Hak hissed into Draco's ear, and the boy did a hand-less back
flip several paces back, and to the side, not want to have to feel the
sensation of being shot point-blank. It hurt like a bitch, and he was
positive that more than once, if it hadn't been for Potter the shots
would have killed him.
A clip ran out of bullets as Ginny opened fire as Draco fled, cutting
through the flesh of a shoulder, and his right hip. She tossed the gun
to the side, yanking the other .9mm out of her other pocket, and
pressing it to the pale boy's right temple as he lay on the ground,
glaring up at her. She smiled ruthlessly.
Ron was wide-eyed, wondering if Hermione had brought him out here to
witness his sister murdering Draco Malfoy-- when slow clapping caught
both his attention, and the attention of the two combatants. The second
youngest Weasley gave Harry Potter a look of stunned surprise as he
melted out of the shadows, walking towards his sister and the person
he, personally considered an enemy.
"Very well executed," this silver-eyed version of his
once-and-still-sort-of friend called in a perfectly emotionless voice,
"You are both skilled in your techniques, although you must work on
your endurance, Draco, and you must stop solving everything with
bullets, Virginia. There may come a time when you are in such a
situation that there is neither time to manually change clips, nor time
to change them with magic or the Power."
"Sir," the two muttered with slow nods, and the silver-eyed, chillingly
emotionless Harry James Potter, knelt before both of them, reaching out
with the Power that he had command over, and forcing the bodies of his
students to mend. Then he stood, and looked to the shadows where
Hermione and Ron watched.
"Ah, good, you brought him."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "I told you I would, Weapon. Where's Sirius?"
Harry pointed straight up, and she tilted her head back. At the sight
of the full moon, she nodded, "I forgot."
Ron finally managed to find his mouth, "What's going on here?!"
---
Riddle crossed his arms, staring blankly into his fireplace, wondering.
The flames said that something was coming, something was going to
happen. Soon. But what could it be?
What could possibly throw the Power into such disarray that at the same
time it was both joyous and fearful.
It would seem strange, to anyone other than a Living Weapon that
something that is inherently energy could feel emotions. However, Tom
was a Weapon, and he understood full well that the Power was a living
being, of a sort. A conscious energy that could guide its users from
behind the scenes.
Unfortunately, it seemed that the part of the Power that Lord Voldemort
had control over, did not know what was to happen. His fingers
clenched, and he grit his teeth.
He'd have to go torture some muggles to take his mind off the problem.
---
The Living Weapon known only as Katar shifted in his guard position
beside his Master's chair. Katar had never so much as blinked while he
was considered "on duty", so a shift of movement was both something
unprecedented, and something to be looked into. His Master turned to
face him.
"Katar? Is something wrong?"
The glassy-eyed redhead blinked slowly, as if coming out of a trance.
To Cornelius Fudge's shock, he saw the glint of intelligence enter the
eyes of what he had assumed was a wizard with mental defects. He'd
"had" Katar for twelve years by that point, and not once had he seen
anything even approaching a child's level of intelligence. The glaze
over those chilling, blood red eyes faded, leaving the narrowed,
angular face of the Living Weapon curved into a sadistic smirk.
Katar had been a muggle before his transformation into a second
generation Living Weapon, against his will, those long years ago. While
he had been in Fudge's "employment"-- which could not be considered
employment, since Fudge only gave him a place to stay and the minium
amount of food he could get away with, as long as he did whatever Fudge
told him to do-- he had not be able to access control of his own
movements, his own motions.
But something had changed-- something _was_ changing. Something big.
Something big enough that the Power was reacting in new ways, unusual
ways.
"Not at all," hissed the blood-eyed, blood-haired man, and Fudge
shivered in his chair. There was infliction, tone, attitude--
_emotion_-- in Katar's words, something he had never had before. An
insidious chuckle built in the man's throat, "Nothing is wrong at
all..."
"K-k-k-Katar?!"
Still, the laughter built, "Everything is fine... The Balance is
Coming..."
"Th-the Balance?" squeaked the Minister, "Wh-what is th-the
ba-balance?"
That chilling smirk was turned to the head of the Ministry of Magic,
"It is the New World," he mused, running claw-like fingernails down his
face, and his neck, coming to a halt on the control collar that had
been placed around his neck when he'd finally managed to channel the
Power, and it had changed him. It had locked his sense of self away,
and made him a marionette.
But now he was free to control _it_. The collar was a symbol of his
previous ownership. He would not be owned. He would join with his
brothers and sisters, the other Second Generation Living Weapons, and
he would help them. He would not be controlled by an outside source,
ever again.
Fudge had not bothered to remove the collar in all the years he'd had
Katar in his so-called service. If Katar wanted it removed, he'd remove
it, right? And Katar wanted it gone, and he wanted it gone _now_. His
fingers dug into his throat, under the collar, and with all the
strength he could command, he ripped it form his throat.
Cornelius pissed his pants as Katar's body swelled from a whipcord thin
five nothing, to a six nothing version of himself with twice the muscle
mass. His wild mane of blood red hair, that had once fallen into his
eyes, and framed his face in controllable locks began to lick at his
cheeks, moving like living fire.
An apt description as the robes Fudge had given him to dress in burned
away. The decade and a half old muggle t-shirt he'd worn since the day
following his original channeling burned away as well, revealing the
thick black tribal tattoo on his back that mimicked the shape of a
burning phoenix. And from the wings of the tattoo, fire began to
flicker extending outwards and then wrapping around his body, like a
thick cloak.
He purred in the back of his throat as his eye-teeth extended into
vicious fangs, and from his shoulders a set of blood-red horns curled
outwards. Licking his lips, he turned back to Fudge, and cupped the
cheek of the man who had owned him for the past decade. He leaned
forwards, so cat-slit ruby irises were all Fudge could see.
"I won't kill you now," he mused, "I will leave that for the day of the
planet's rebirth. We will have so much fun..." patting the stunned
minister on the cheek, he glided over to the window of the Minister's
office, and placed his hand against the glass. Fudge's mouth went dry
as the glass seemed to... to _melt_ and be absorbed by Katar.
The Living Weapon laughed gleefully as he shot out of the window,
slamming into the road below, and sprinted off in the direction of
Scotland. He could feel the most powerful of his brothers and sisters
in that direction. He did not know who they were, or whether they had
control of themselves or not. If they did, good. If they didn't, he
would free them. Having spent over a decade in that state, he refused
to allow any other Weapon to have to deal with that.
He didn't give a damn who saw him as he ran. All he cared about was
instigating the Balance. It was coming. It would happen soon. He could
feel it, taste it, breath it. And he would be there. _He_ would be in
control of those that had once controlled him!
---
End Chapter
Katar is, like Daemen, actually from my novel. He's a bit of a
psychopath, but his loyalty is to Weapon and no other. If Weapon
commands him to kill other Living Weapons, Katar will do so.
I felt like he'd be fun to introduce. But he _does_ actually have a
point in Blackened Sunrise. You just aren't going to find out what it
is yet, although, some of you can probably guess what it is already
^___^
It was just a small animethon/party deal, consisting of me, Leigh,
Silent Dragon, Leigh's "M-sama", Kris, Ali, and Greek Fate. Ali, M-sama
and I ended up passed out in the living room, while everyone else went
home ^o^;;
Applestraw - *stares at you for several minutes* ... er... here's
more...
xticy - Wow, you never review, but you reviewed my fic? That's so nice
^____^
howling wolf - I have evil plans for Wolfos, mwahahahahaha.
Black Rose - You're Welcome ^__^ You're a very hyper person, no??
Shila - I couldn't remember your quote off the top of my head, so it's
not in this chapter. I'll try for next chapter. :D
Soulless - And I thought I had problems when I checked a story every
six hours! *laughs* I'm glad you like it enough to check every hour for
a new chapter. You'd become a Weapon for me? Wheee! My own Weapon!
*grins*
We all know the disclaimer by now, right? Right??
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Thirty Four: Advancing
The Itch
---
The clash of metal on metal yanked Ron from his thoughts as Hermione
lead him through the Hogwarts ground to the Quidditch Pitch early the
morning following Harry and Draco's butter knife-fight. The youngest of
the male Weasleys turned his attention to the center of the pitch, and
nearly froze in shock.
Draco and Virginia leapt apart, Ginny swinging her Amazon Battle
Staff-- currently shaped into a massive double-handed broadsword that
she was using one handed-- up onto her shoulder, bracing it against her
neck and grinning widely. Her inch long hair waving in spiky chunks
around her face, eyes glinting with gleeful amusement. She was dressed
in a pair of white muggle shorts that were a bit loose, and belted
around the hips, as well as a silver muggle sleeveless top with a
zipper down the front that fit snugly against her throat.
Malfoy fell back into his own defensive stance, a pair of Katar in
hand, their wicked blades gleaming death. He, too, was dressed as a
muggle, his black jeans cutting off messily just above his black hiking
boots, a black t-shirt with red trim hugging his torso.
Both he and Virginia had weapons holsters, sheaths and scabbards
strapped wherever one could be strapped.
The stunned redhead could only gap in surprise as the two circled each
other, and he realized that both were decorated in lacerations--
bleeding lacerations. Hermione guided him carefully out of the
combatants' way, should the pair start really going at it.
"Well," Ron heard his sister laugh, "You certainly haven't lost your
edge."
"Glad to hear that," Malfoy mused, "I was so sure that I'd have lost it
with that month of no-practice."
"Let's see if your stamina is as good as your skill!" she roared,
swinging the blade off her shoulder, lunging at Draco. Lucius' son
pushed off the ground, feet smacking solidly against the blade as he
came down, and then pushed off again. Ginny had twisted the sword,
yanking it upwards, even as the massive blade shifted into a smaller,
single-handed long sword, in an attempt to skewer Malfoy on it's tip.
She just barely managed to move the sword from offensive to defensive,
halting Draco's vicious attack with his Katar, his newest weapon.
Throwing one of the Katar off his hand, the triangle shaped blade
sliced into the earth before coming to a halt at Hermione's feet. He
withdrew one of the Stallion Blades, splitting his attention between
the fight and Hak.
Virginia growled low in her throat, the long sword shifting into a
shield. As she blocked his strikes with both enchanted Stallion Blade,
and the single Katar that remained, she yanked one of her .9mm from her
pocket. It wasn't truly in her pocket, but strapped to her thigh, the
pocket itself having been removed in order to create a way to easily
withdraw her weapons.
Guns! Hak hissed into Draco's ear, and the boy did a hand-less back
flip several paces back, and to the side, not want to have to feel the
sensation of being shot point-blank. It hurt like a bitch, and he was
positive that more than once, if it hadn't been for Potter the shots
would have killed him.
A clip ran out of bullets as Ginny opened fire as Draco fled, cutting
through the flesh of a shoulder, and his right hip. She tossed the gun
to the side, yanking the other .9mm out of her other pocket, and
pressing it to the pale boy's right temple as he lay on the ground,
glaring up at her. She smiled ruthlessly.
Ron was wide-eyed, wondering if Hermione had brought him out here to
witness his sister murdering Draco Malfoy-- when slow clapping caught
both his attention, and the attention of the two combatants. The second
youngest Weasley gave Harry Potter a look of stunned surprise as he
melted out of the shadows, walking towards his sister and the person
he, personally considered an enemy.
"Very well executed," this silver-eyed version of his
once-and-still-sort-of friend called in a perfectly emotionless voice,
"You are both skilled in your techniques, although you must work on
your endurance, Draco, and you must stop solving everything with
bullets, Virginia. There may come a time when you are in such a
situation that there is neither time to manually change clips, nor time
to change them with magic or the Power."
"Sir," the two muttered with slow nods, and the silver-eyed, chillingly
emotionless Harry James Potter, knelt before both of them, reaching out
with the Power that he had command over, and forcing the bodies of his
students to mend. Then he stood, and looked to the shadows where
Hermione and Ron watched.
"Ah, good, you brought him."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "I told you I would, Weapon. Where's Sirius?"
Harry pointed straight up, and she tilted her head back. At the sight
of the full moon, she nodded, "I forgot."
Ron finally managed to find his mouth, "What's going on here?!"
---
Riddle crossed his arms, staring blankly into his fireplace, wondering.
The flames said that something was coming, something was going to
happen. Soon. But what could it be?
What could possibly throw the Power into such disarray that at the same
time it was both joyous and fearful.
It would seem strange, to anyone other than a Living Weapon that
something that is inherently energy could feel emotions. However, Tom
was a Weapon, and he understood full well that the Power was a living
being, of a sort. A conscious energy that could guide its users from
behind the scenes.
Unfortunately, it seemed that the part of the Power that Lord Voldemort
had control over, did not know what was to happen. His fingers
clenched, and he grit his teeth.
He'd have to go torture some muggles to take his mind off the problem.
---
The Living Weapon known only as Katar shifted in his guard position
beside his Master's chair. Katar had never so much as blinked while he
was considered "on duty", so a shift of movement was both something
unprecedented, and something to be looked into. His Master turned to
face him.
"Katar? Is something wrong?"
The glassy-eyed redhead blinked slowly, as if coming out of a trance.
To Cornelius Fudge's shock, he saw the glint of intelligence enter the
eyes of what he had assumed was a wizard with mental defects. He'd
"had" Katar for twelve years by that point, and not once had he seen
anything even approaching a child's level of intelligence. The glaze
over those chilling, blood red eyes faded, leaving the narrowed,
angular face of the Living Weapon curved into a sadistic smirk.
Katar had been a muggle before his transformation into a second
generation Living Weapon, against his will, those long years ago. While
he had been in Fudge's "employment"-- which could not be considered
employment, since Fudge only gave him a place to stay and the minium
amount of food he could get away with, as long as he did whatever Fudge
told him to do-- he had not be able to access control of his own
movements, his own motions.
But something had changed-- something _was_ changing. Something big.
Something big enough that the Power was reacting in new ways, unusual
ways.
"Not at all," hissed the blood-eyed, blood-haired man, and Fudge
shivered in his chair. There was infliction, tone, attitude--
_emotion_-- in Katar's words, something he had never had before. An
insidious chuckle built in the man's throat, "Nothing is wrong at
all..."
"K-k-k-Katar?!"
Still, the laughter built, "Everything is fine... The Balance is
Coming..."
"Th-the Balance?" squeaked the Minister, "Wh-what is th-the
ba-balance?"
That chilling smirk was turned to the head of the Ministry of Magic,
"It is the New World," he mused, running claw-like fingernails down his
face, and his neck, coming to a halt on the control collar that had
been placed around his neck when he'd finally managed to channel the
Power, and it had changed him. It had locked his sense of self away,
and made him a marionette.
But now he was free to control _it_. The collar was a symbol of his
previous ownership. He would not be owned. He would join with his
brothers and sisters, the other Second Generation Living Weapons, and
he would help them. He would not be controlled by an outside source,
ever again.
Fudge had not bothered to remove the collar in all the years he'd had
Katar in his so-called service. If Katar wanted it removed, he'd remove
it, right? And Katar wanted it gone, and he wanted it gone _now_. His
fingers dug into his throat, under the collar, and with all the
strength he could command, he ripped it form his throat.
Cornelius pissed his pants as Katar's body swelled from a whipcord thin
five nothing, to a six nothing version of himself with twice the muscle
mass. His wild mane of blood red hair, that had once fallen into his
eyes, and framed his face in controllable locks began to lick at his
cheeks, moving like living fire.
An apt description as the robes Fudge had given him to dress in burned
away. The decade and a half old muggle t-shirt he'd worn since the day
following his original channeling burned away as well, revealing the
thick black tribal tattoo on his back that mimicked the shape of a
burning phoenix. And from the wings of the tattoo, fire began to
flicker extending outwards and then wrapping around his body, like a
thick cloak.
He purred in the back of his throat as his eye-teeth extended into
vicious fangs, and from his shoulders a set of blood-red horns curled
outwards. Licking his lips, he turned back to Fudge, and cupped the
cheek of the man who had owned him for the past decade. He leaned
forwards, so cat-slit ruby irises were all Fudge could see.
"I won't kill you now," he mused, "I will leave that for the day of the
planet's rebirth. We will have so much fun..." patting the stunned
minister on the cheek, he glided over to the window of the Minister's
office, and placed his hand against the glass. Fudge's mouth went dry
as the glass seemed to... to _melt_ and be absorbed by Katar.
The Living Weapon laughed gleefully as he shot out of the window,
slamming into the road below, and sprinted off in the direction of
Scotland. He could feel the most powerful of his brothers and sisters
in that direction. He did not know who they were, or whether they had
control of themselves or not. If they did, good. If they didn't, he
would free them. Having spent over a decade in that state, he refused
to allow any other Weapon to have to deal with that.
He didn't give a damn who saw him as he ran. All he cared about was
instigating the Balance. It was coming. It would happen soon. He could
feel it, taste it, breath it. And he would be there. _He_ would be in
control of those that had once controlled him!
---
End Chapter
Katar is, like Daemen, actually from my novel. He's a bit of a
psychopath, but his loyalty is to Weapon and no other. If Weapon
commands him to kill other Living Weapons, Katar will do so.
I felt like he'd be fun to introduce. But he _does_ actually have a
point in Blackened Sunrise. You just aren't going to find out what it
is yet, although, some of you can probably guess what it is already
^___^