Cr1Ms0n^D3v1L - If you liked the 'true spellcaster' part you're really
going to love her part in this chapter.
katrina - Logan? I'm more of a fan of Remy but... hmmm, I suppose he
could have adamantium in his body; it would certainly give him an
excuse to be able to use his blades to be able to cut through anything
^__^
luverofall - No, I don't think my movel is going to be coming out soon. All the scenes are kinda disjointed, and I'm slowly working on connecting them. Angelus and Lang (the two central characters) are getting pissed off that I'm taking forever. :P
Temptress - Well, old dumble is still kicking, but not likely for
long... Now, Wolfos...
Ran - If it's unique insanity, why does it remind you of someone?
*looks confused* Heeey, Farfello's that guy Leigh has an obsession
with! The one she's _always_ going on about when the gang gets into
their psycho anime talks. *rolls her eyes*
Willows - Ron has a place. You find out what he's there for at the end
of this chapter ^___^
darkhaven - It took thirty chapters to get you to review? *grins* well,
at least you reviewed! To quote Leigh: "I like being original". The
length actually dropped a couple paragraphs on this chapter, but when
the inspiriation decides to take it's normal twenty-four hour break,
there's not much I can do.
Except learn how to type. Aiyah, so many typos found in these author's
notes...
Black Rose - You're very welcome to writing a Spin-off. I never
actually thoguht I'd be considering a good enough author to have
someone ask me to be able to write one. Wow, that's like, to me, the
ultimate compliment (which is also why, whenever I get my stupid book
on the shelves, I'm going to be obsessively reading any and all
fanfiction about it.)
guess - Mwahahahahaha, the God of Death has arisen!... Lacking the
normal asslength braid, but he's still the God of Death!
ninerings - I do have fan art. I sat and stared over Leigh's shoulder
the entire hour she spent working on it, to point out what she'd drawn
wrong. Now, if she'd just scan the thing and put it up on The Project,
I could post a link to it.
Right, and there are still lots of spots open in my RPG:
http://groups.yahoo.com/groups/lupinenight
http://icetemple.tripod.com/
Well, I haven't miraculously turned into Rowling yet, so I still don't
own Harry Potter.
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Forty - Enchantress
The Itch
---
Black scaled tail lashing, Weapon stretched, beating all four wings for
a final time, popping his spine back into place. He did so hate being
forced into a human body. Harry could be as human as he wanted to be.
Weapon preferred his more saurian forms-- this strange combination of
man and raptor, or his fully raptor form, with the addition of his
powerfully muscled wings. His vampiric form was more of one he took
when he needed to attract less attention.
Harry? he called to his other half, Remind me to train the others to
take their other two forms.
Sure, sure, came the laugh of the boy who was enjoying the stunned and
frightened stares of his schoolmates, now, stretch your wings a bit,
would you? This is bloody hilarious!
Weapon gave a mental nod to the green-eyed wizard, and returned his
attention to the school in general, "This is my true form."
With a bounce, he was on the floor between the tables. He walked with
surprising grace, and utter silence-- despite his talons. He was the
Living Weapon, his face blank of all emotion as he prowled up to stand
before Dumbledore, clawed fingers cupping the elder's chin in hand. The
saurian muzzle opened to speak something, when a command overrode his
own wants.
"Back off, Weapon," Wolfos growled, sitting straight from where he had
slouched during the performance, having seen Weapon's transformation
before, and not being to impressed with the changes the other three had
gone through. He was inordinately proud of his creation; he also knew
he was quite capable of controlling Weapon when he was in full
manifestation. The wards had helped to block his control, but now that
they were off, Weapon's loyalty was bound directly to him.
It was just one of those things that Riddle had managed to sneak into
the creation of the Second Generation Living Weapons. Virginia, Draco
and Sirius had been mostly exempted from this part of the creation,
since Harry didn't actually know how it worked. He just assumed that to
leave the binding spells out would protect them from being his mindless
servants.
After all, mindless toys were useless.
Unfortunately, the binding of created and creator went beyond merely
the binding spells, since the majority of the Weapons-- such Katar--
were muggles. Draco, Virginia and Sirius were well and bound to Harry
and Weapon, however the doubled "ultimate loyalty" helped to keep them
from being useless, mindless automations, since the two parts of Potter
were completely different personalities. They could shift between
loyalties without even knowing it.
Katar's own loyalty-bindings had been shattered the night he'd escaped
from Fudge, however, he'd needed a bit of a focus, having not been able
to think for himself for nearly a decade and a half. As such, he'd
aimed his focus on Harry and Weapon.
They were set on edge the moment the DADA Professor spoke, wondering
how he'd managed to slip out of the reigns of Draco's spell, and their
teeth were grinding as Weapon was commanded to do something he
obviously didn't want to. It made Draco's mind flash back to that day,
months ago, when Wolfos had merely spoken the word 'Attack' and
suddenly he'd found himself introduced to the wall. Silvery steel eyes
widened as, with a sinking feeling, he suddenly realized that there was
someone pulling Potter's strings-- and that Harbinger could do nothing
to fight it off, since he was currently inhabiting Weapon's body.
Daemon stood with an unnatural grace, padding calmly towards the
beast-man, who's eyes were glassy and blank. After a few tense minutes,
the old man stood before his student, lavender eyes boring into silver.
And then, with a suddenness that startled everyone, Wolfos reared back
and cracked Weapon across the muzzle.
At the keening whine that came from their instructor's mouth, sounding
all to much like a beaten dog, the three Weapons trained by Potter lost
it. Dart moved first, the instinct to protect his godson intermingling
with his subconscious fixated loyalty on the other Living Weapon,
shooting him across the floor to slam violently into Daemon.
For such an old man, he moved with speed, and strength, kicking Sirius
up into the air, and firing a curse with his wand, which was in his
hand with a thought.
Virginia came second, a hawk-like screech coming from her throat, ruby
feathers fluffing up in agitation and she kicked the wand from her
former Professor's hands, one of her .9mm slipping from the holster on
her hip into her hand, and she unloaded the entire clip as fast as she
possibly could.
Again, he moved with speed, and although his wand had been thrown from
his hand, a reflective shield managed to destroy the majority of the
bullets, however, one of them nicked a chain around his neck, and an
amulet clattered to the ground from within his robes. A second and
third bullet made friends with his left shoulder.
Then they were grappling, Gunn's strength as a Living Weapon matching
Daemon's strength from years of training. The two were growling angrily
at one another, up until Wolfos barked, "Weapon! Attack!"
There was a blur of movement, and then Gunn went tumbling end over end
through the air. The glassy-eyed Living Weapon was hunched over before
his commandant, lips curled back and away from his teeth in a mindless
snarl of rage, hands clenching and unclenching dangerous, deadly ebon
talons.
Bladewhip and Katar managed to keep themselves from running headlong
into battle against Weapon, wary where their companions had been rash.
Ron was glancing nervously from face to face to face, wondering what
would happen if things failed to go to plan. The way they were going...
But Hermione was not worried. The sixteen year old lifted her athame,
closing her eyes and concentrating on her own knowledge, she began to
inscribe runes into the air. Runes of strength, intellect, power,
passion, life, and effect were etched one on top of the other, the
power of her own magic filling the room with it's intangible feel. With
her eyes closed, she did not notice the stunned stares turning to her
face, the shocked looks as her hair and robes began to swirl in a
whirlwind of her own power.
When her eyes snapped open, glowing with elderich power, the only thing
she was was Weapon, a ghostly Harry Potter hovering inches above the
ground at his side. The glaze in Weapon's eyes began to fade, and an
actual hint of anger flooded into those normally expressionless silver
orbs.
Daemon has much to answer for.
Surprised eyes turned to face the girl who could no longer be called a
'witch' or 'wizard'. The title was to bland, to simple, to describe
what she was, to describe the level she had ascended to. She was what
the magic community had once been, before the idea of instant
gratification came about. She was what in olden times would be
considered an Enchantress, or Warlock. Those who understood their magic
to the most basest of levels, and could control it. While she still had
much to do in order to reach that level of knowledge and skill, she was
well on her way to doing so, and Weapon felt right in calling her one
of the long deceased Enchantresses.
But that was not what had caught the Living Weapon by surprise. It was
the fact that he could hear her in his mind. Her thoughts-- or, at the
least, those directed at him-- curled about his own mental facilities.
Pay him back, Weapon.
What is this...? he wanted to ask, directing the thought towards her,
but unsure if she would be able to hear him. Her lips curled into a
beatific smile.
This is your protection. Follow this link to me, and I will always free
you from his control.
Silver eyes narrowed with understanding, and the two broke eye contact,
the real world rushing in on them again. Hermione paid it no heed,
instead slipping her athame back into her sleeve, folding her arms and
waiting patiently. At her side, Ron shuffled his feet, wondering
exactly what was happening. The second youngest Weasley could feel his
hackles raising as something passed between his best friends, and for a
moment, he'd found himself staring _through_ everything, seeing a scene
in his mind that he could not possibly be seeing.
Where Dumbledore had stood, there had been Godric Gryffindor. Daemon's
place had been taken by a young man with Helga Hufflepuff standing
directly behind him, the man looking remarkably like the older woman.
Rowena Ravenclaw had stood proudly in Hermione's place, arms folded
exactly like the present-day teenager's had been. And in Harry's
place... had been Salazar Slytherin.
History was... repeating itself? Hand flying to his forehead, the young
man wondering just exactly what was wrong with him. Then the world
righted itself, and Weapon slowly slumped over, like his strings had
been cut.
Wolfos looked startled, then pointed towards the smiling Enchantress,
"Eliminate the threat."
Weapon did not move.
"Didn't you hear me?" snarled the lavender eyed wizard, "I _made_ you!
Obey me! _Kill_ _her_!"
That was all the incentive Weapon needed, whirling around and slamming
Daemon back against the staff table, sending it crashing to the ground,
and the stunned professors scrambling to get to relative safety. Only
Dumbledore remained seated, frozen in place by Gunn's Power.
The balding older man scrabbled helplessly at the clawed hands that
were wrapped around his throat, feet kicking out in a desperate attempt
to escape. The sixteen year old Weapon's saurian muzzle was pulled back
into a grotesque mockery of a ruthless grin, "You did not create me."
"W-w-w-wh-a-a-a-at...?" Daemon rasped around the hands cutting off his
air supply.
Weapon's unusual facial expression got wider, "You did not create me.
You set me free. Fifteen years ago I was created. Fifteen years ago I
took Tomas Marvolo Riddle's mortal form. Fifteen years ago I was locked
within Harry's mind. Over these past fifteen years, I have come forth
innumerable times," his hands clenched tighter, fierce some iced steel
gaze landing on Dumbledore's stunned visage, "... every time Harry was
beaten and abused. Every time he faced something he was unable of
facing, I faced it. Every time he was forced to do something he
disliked, I came forwards to deal with it."
Hermione was the only one of the group who backed Potter, who did not
look stunned at this revelation-- and that was only because she'd
learned of it before hand, learned of it only bare minutes earlier when
her spell wrapped around Harry's mind and shielded his consciousness
from Wolfos' control.
It's called Disassociative Identity Disorder, she mused along their
telepathic link, Multiple Personalities that literally take on their
own lives. Except... most of them do not have their own bodies to
inhabit.
Guess Weapon's special that way, Harry's mental self gave a little
smirk, always has been...
"Only... it took your meddling for Harry to be shoved to the back long
enough for me to take full control like I did fifteen years ago. Eight
months locked up within his own mind, eight months where I had absolute
control, except..." here, the grin that seemed so out of place, not
only on the bestial features, but on Weapon in general vanished into a
dark scowl, that sent chills through the bones of those who saw it--
Daemon and the Professor's directly in line with the demonic "angel's"
face, "... except that there was that tiny problem of your being able
to ascertain your control. You thought you were bloody God himself."
Those pale silver eyes lost part of their dark look as he let the man
go, watching him slump and take deep, gasping breaths. Wolfos let a
grin cross his face as Weapon's eyes glazed over, but the grin did not
last long. One moment, the look on the demon's face was the same as the
unseeing gaze that was trademark of the fact that the Living Weapon was
beneath his carefully wrought control.
The next, Daemon Wolfos was feeling blood bubble up in his mouth,
staring incredulously at the clawed hand that vanished into his
stomach. He could feel those wicked claws uncurling from their fist,
and his flesh tore as Weapon reached up behind his once mentor's rib
cage.
"But you are not God," was the soft husk, the usual monotone left
behind in his moment between Master and Servant, as the Servant
rebelled, "You are mortal man. You attempted to tamper with something
you do not understand. Do not think I do not know of the attempt to
steal one of my students from me. Do not think I do not know of the
spell _you_ cast with which to do so. Do not think that I do not
know... of your partnership with Tomas Riddle."
He withdrew his hand, raking claws across the muscles inside the
elder's chest, a sickening sucking sound coming about as he removed his
limb from the wound. Blood flooded out of the injury, and Weapon stood,
tongue slipping out to lap up the splatters of blood that decorated his
claws as he raised his hand to his mouth. He stared down at the dying
man without emotion, before turning, and striding to the center of the
Great Hall.
Students cowered away from him, eyes still locked on the corpse as it
sunk fully to the ground, the man unable to support himself as his life
blood spilled out across the floor.
And Ron saw the strange doubling of images again, although the image of
the founders revealed that as Salazar walked away, Rowena had lost her
cool, staring at the headless corpse that had been the unknown relative
of Helga Hufflepuff. Things did not always happen exactly the same, and
as Salazar slipped from the hall, Weapon halted directly in the center,
his back to the staff table. The image of the founders faded away,
leaving Ron with a headache.
Weapon's icy silver gaze swept over the students, and he crossed his
arms, Bladewhip and Katar gliding silently to his sides, Hermione
moving to stand directly in front of him, and a hesitant Ron skittering
along behind her. He was already too far into this to back out now.
Weapon nodded to each of his supporters, turning to gaze at Gunn and
Sirius who were slowly recovering and getting back to their feet from
the harsh treatment they had received. But their eyes were on his,
offering him tumultuous smiles of encouragement. To them he nodded as
well, before his gaze returned to the students that hours ago had been
his class mates.
His wings flared out to their full wing-span, feathers brushing across
Katar and Draco's cheeks, the wings surrounding them like a blanket of
warmth for a moment, before the very tips stretched as far as they
could. This impressive show was to bring attention to the fact that he
was not only Dark, but Light as well. He was both, and yet not. He was
above such silly things as Order, he was an agent of Chaos, of the
Balance.
"You have a choice," his voice was back to it's traditional monotone as
he stared unflinchingly into the eyes of the terrified and the angry,
"You can join us in the coming of the Balance, or you can join Daemon
in the hell he belongs to. Whichever you prefer."
After all, what did he care?
He had his Weapons-- Gunn, Dart and Bladewhip. He had the Missing
Weapon as an Ally. He had an Enchantress on his side. He had a
clairvoyant, even if the teenager had yet to realize it. He had all he
needed to bring about the Balance.
Hermione's eyes met his.
And the Balance we shall bring about, the smile on her face was
innocent, but the glint in her eyes held the touch of madness garnered
by her mind sliding across his. The Balance will fix everything.
Even death.
---
End Chapter
I feel this is a good a place as any to cut this off. Sorry's it's
short than 39, but I honestly could work up the thoughts to continue
this out a couple more pages.
So we've finally learned that no, Weapon is _not_ a separate soul, just
a personality. It only took, what? Thirty seven chapters?
And Ron's now a clairvoyant. Why? Because I said so.
going to love her part in this chapter.
katrina - Logan? I'm more of a fan of Remy but... hmmm, I suppose he
could have adamantium in his body; it would certainly give him an
excuse to be able to use his blades to be able to cut through anything
^__^
luverofall - No, I don't think my movel is going to be coming out soon. All the scenes are kinda disjointed, and I'm slowly working on connecting them. Angelus and Lang (the two central characters) are getting pissed off that I'm taking forever. :P
Temptress - Well, old dumble is still kicking, but not likely for
long... Now, Wolfos...
Ran - If it's unique insanity, why does it remind you of someone?
*looks confused* Heeey, Farfello's that guy Leigh has an obsession
with! The one she's _always_ going on about when the gang gets into
their psycho anime talks. *rolls her eyes*
Willows - Ron has a place. You find out what he's there for at the end
of this chapter ^___^
darkhaven - It took thirty chapters to get you to review? *grins* well,
at least you reviewed! To quote Leigh: "I like being original". The
length actually dropped a couple paragraphs on this chapter, but when
the inspiriation decides to take it's normal twenty-four hour break,
there's not much I can do.
Except learn how to type. Aiyah, so many typos found in these author's
notes...
Black Rose - You're very welcome to writing a Spin-off. I never
actually thoguht I'd be considering a good enough author to have
someone ask me to be able to write one. Wow, that's like, to me, the
ultimate compliment (which is also why, whenever I get my stupid book
on the shelves, I'm going to be obsessively reading any and all
fanfiction about it.)
guess - Mwahahahahaha, the God of Death has arisen!... Lacking the
normal asslength braid, but he's still the God of Death!
ninerings - I do have fan art. I sat and stared over Leigh's shoulder
the entire hour she spent working on it, to point out what she'd drawn
wrong. Now, if she'd just scan the thing and put it up on The Project,
I could post a link to it.
Right, and there are still lots of spots open in my RPG:
http://groups.yahoo.com/groups/lupinenight
http://icetemple.tripod.com/
Well, I haven't miraculously turned into Rowling yet, so I still don't
own Harry Potter.
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Forty - Enchantress
The Itch
---
Black scaled tail lashing, Weapon stretched, beating all four wings for
a final time, popping his spine back into place. He did so hate being
forced into a human body. Harry could be as human as he wanted to be.
Weapon preferred his more saurian forms-- this strange combination of
man and raptor, or his fully raptor form, with the addition of his
powerfully muscled wings. His vampiric form was more of one he took
when he needed to attract less attention.
Harry? he called to his other half, Remind me to train the others to
take their other two forms.
Sure, sure, came the laugh of the boy who was enjoying the stunned and
frightened stares of his schoolmates, now, stretch your wings a bit,
would you? This is bloody hilarious!
Weapon gave a mental nod to the green-eyed wizard, and returned his
attention to the school in general, "This is my true form."
With a bounce, he was on the floor between the tables. He walked with
surprising grace, and utter silence-- despite his talons. He was the
Living Weapon, his face blank of all emotion as he prowled up to stand
before Dumbledore, clawed fingers cupping the elder's chin in hand. The
saurian muzzle opened to speak something, when a command overrode his
own wants.
"Back off, Weapon," Wolfos growled, sitting straight from where he had
slouched during the performance, having seen Weapon's transformation
before, and not being to impressed with the changes the other three had
gone through. He was inordinately proud of his creation; he also knew
he was quite capable of controlling Weapon when he was in full
manifestation. The wards had helped to block his control, but now that
they were off, Weapon's loyalty was bound directly to him.
It was just one of those things that Riddle had managed to sneak into
the creation of the Second Generation Living Weapons. Virginia, Draco
and Sirius had been mostly exempted from this part of the creation,
since Harry didn't actually know how it worked. He just assumed that to
leave the binding spells out would protect them from being his mindless
servants.
After all, mindless toys were useless.
Unfortunately, the binding of created and creator went beyond merely
the binding spells, since the majority of the Weapons-- such Katar--
were muggles. Draco, Virginia and Sirius were well and bound to Harry
and Weapon, however the doubled "ultimate loyalty" helped to keep them
from being useless, mindless automations, since the two parts of Potter
were completely different personalities. They could shift between
loyalties without even knowing it.
Katar's own loyalty-bindings had been shattered the night he'd escaped
from Fudge, however, he'd needed a bit of a focus, having not been able
to think for himself for nearly a decade and a half. As such, he'd
aimed his focus on Harry and Weapon.
They were set on edge the moment the DADA Professor spoke, wondering
how he'd managed to slip out of the reigns of Draco's spell, and their
teeth were grinding as Weapon was commanded to do something he
obviously didn't want to. It made Draco's mind flash back to that day,
months ago, when Wolfos had merely spoken the word 'Attack' and
suddenly he'd found himself introduced to the wall. Silvery steel eyes
widened as, with a sinking feeling, he suddenly realized that there was
someone pulling Potter's strings-- and that Harbinger could do nothing
to fight it off, since he was currently inhabiting Weapon's body.
Daemon stood with an unnatural grace, padding calmly towards the
beast-man, who's eyes were glassy and blank. After a few tense minutes,
the old man stood before his student, lavender eyes boring into silver.
And then, with a suddenness that startled everyone, Wolfos reared back
and cracked Weapon across the muzzle.
At the keening whine that came from their instructor's mouth, sounding
all to much like a beaten dog, the three Weapons trained by Potter lost
it. Dart moved first, the instinct to protect his godson intermingling
with his subconscious fixated loyalty on the other Living Weapon,
shooting him across the floor to slam violently into Daemon.
For such an old man, he moved with speed, and strength, kicking Sirius
up into the air, and firing a curse with his wand, which was in his
hand with a thought.
Virginia came second, a hawk-like screech coming from her throat, ruby
feathers fluffing up in agitation and she kicked the wand from her
former Professor's hands, one of her .9mm slipping from the holster on
her hip into her hand, and she unloaded the entire clip as fast as she
possibly could.
Again, he moved with speed, and although his wand had been thrown from
his hand, a reflective shield managed to destroy the majority of the
bullets, however, one of them nicked a chain around his neck, and an
amulet clattered to the ground from within his robes. A second and
third bullet made friends with his left shoulder.
Then they were grappling, Gunn's strength as a Living Weapon matching
Daemon's strength from years of training. The two were growling angrily
at one another, up until Wolfos barked, "Weapon! Attack!"
There was a blur of movement, and then Gunn went tumbling end over end
through the air. The glassy-eyed Living Weapon was hunched over before
his commandant, lips curled back and away from his teeth in a mindless
snarl of rage, hands clenching and unclenching dangerous, deadly ebon
talons.
Bladewhip and Katar managed to keep themselves from running headlong
into battle against Weapon, wary where their companions had been rash.
Ron was glancing nervously from face to face to face, wondering what
would happen if things failed to go to plan. The way they were going...
But Hermione was not worried. The sixteen year old lifted her athame,
closing her eyes and concentrating on her own knowledge, she began to
inscribe runes into the air. Runes of strength, intellect, power,
passion, life, and effect were etched one on top of the other, the
power of her own magic filling the room with it's intangible feel. With
her eyes closed, she did not notice the stunned stares turning to her
face, the shocked looks as her hair and robes began to swirl in a
whirlwind of her own power.
When her eyes snapped open, glowing with elderich power, the only thing
she was was Weapon, a ghostly Harry Potter hovering inches above the
ground at his side. The glaze in Weapon's eyes began to fade, and an
actual hint of anger flooded into those normally expressionless silver
orbs.
Daemon has much to answer for.
Surprised eyes turned to face the girl who could no longer be called a
'witch' or 'wizard'. The title was to bland, to simple, to describe
what she was, to describe the level she had ascended to. She was what
the magic community had once been, before the idea of instant
gratification came about. She was what in olden times would be
considered an Enchantress, or Warlock. Those who understood their magic
to the most basest of levels, and could control it. While she still had
much to do in order to reach that level of knowledge and skill, she was
well on her way to doing so, and Weapon felt right in calling her one
of the long deceased Enchantresses.
But that was not what had caught the Living Weapon by surprise. It was
the fact that he could hear her in his mind. Her thoughts-- or, at the
least, those directed at him-- curled about his own mental facilities.
Pay him back, Weapon.
What is this...? he wanted to ask, directing the thought towards her,
but unsure if she would be able to hear him. Her lips curled into a
beatific smile.
This is your protection. Follow this link to me, and I will always free
you from his control.
Silver eyes narrowed with understanding, and the two broke eye contact,
the real world rushing in on them again. Hermione paid it no heed,
instead slipping her athame back into her sleeve, folding her arms and
waiting patiently. At her side, Ron shuffled his feet, wondering
exactly what was happening. The second youngest Weasley could feel his
hackles raising as something passed between his best friends, and for a
moment, he'd found himself staring _through_ everything, seeing a scene
in his mind that he could not possibly be seeing.
Where Dumbledore had stood, there had been Godric Gryffindor. Daemon's
place had been taken by a young man with Helga Hufflepuff standing
directly behind him, the man looking remarkably like the older woman.
Rowena Ravenclaw had stood proudly in Hermione's place, arms folded
exactly like the present-day teenager's had been. And in Harry's
place... had been Salazar Slytherin.
History was... repeating itself? Hand flying to his forehead, the young
man wondering just exactly what was wrong with him. Then the world
righted itself, and Weapon slowly slumped over, like his strings had
been cut.
Wolfos looked startled, then pointed towards the smiling Enchantress,
"Eliminate the threat."
Weapon did not move.
"Didn't you hear me?" snarled the lavender eyed wizard, "I _made_ you!
Obey me! _Kill_ _her_!"
That was all the incentive Weapon needed, whirling around and slamming
Daemon back against the staff table, sending it crashing to the ground,
and the stunned professors scrambling to get to relative safety. Only
Dumbledore remained seated, frozen in place by Gunn's Power.
The balding older man scrabbled helplessly at the clawed hands that
were wrapped around his throat, feet kicking out in a desperate attempt
to escape. The sixteen year old Weapon's saurian muzzle was pulled back
into a grotesque mockery of a ruthless grin, "You did not create me."
"W-w-w-wh-a-a-a-at...?" Daemon rasped around the hands cutting off his
air supply.
Weapon's unusual facial expression got wider, "You did not create me.
You set me free. Fifteen years ago I was created. Fifteen years ago I
took Tomas Marvolo Riddle's mortal form. Fifteen years ago I was locked
within Harry's mind. Over these past fifteen years, I have come forth
innumerable times," his hands clenched tighter, fierce some iced steel
gaze landing on Dumbledore's stunned visage, "... every time Harry was
beaten and abused. Every time he faced something he was unable of
facing, I faced it. Every time he was forced to do something he
disliked, I came forwards to deal with it."
Hermione was the only one of the group who backed Potter, who did not
look stunned at this revelation-- and that was only because she'd
learned of it before hand, learned of it only bare minutes earlier when
her spell wrapped around Harry's mind and shielded his consciousness
from Wolfos' control.
It's called Disassociative Identity Disorder, she mused along their
telepathic link, Multiple Personalities that literally take on their
own lives. Except... most of them do not have their own bodies to
inhabit.
Guess Weapon's special that way, Harry's mental self gave a little
smirk, always has been...
"Only... it took your meddling for Harry to be shoved to the back long
enough for me to take full control like I did fifteen years ago. Eight
months locked up within his own mind, eight months where I had absolute
control, except..." here, the grin that seemed so out of place, not
only on the bestial features, but on Weapon in general vanished into a
dark scowl, that sent chills through the bones of those who saw it--
Daemon and the Professor's directly in line with the demonic "angel's"
face, "... except that there was that tiny problem of your being able
to ascertain your control. You thought you were bloody God himself."
Those pale silver eyes lost part of their dark look as he let the man
go, watching him slump and take deep, gasping breaths. Wolfos let a
grin cross his face as Weapon's eyes glazed over, but the grin did not
last long. One moment, the look on the demon's face was the same as the
unseeing gaze that was trademark of the fact that the Living Weapon was
beneath his carefully wrought control.
The next, Daemon Wolfos was feeling blood bubble up in his mouth,
staring incredulously at the clawed hand that vanished into his
stomach. He could feel those wicked claws uncurling from their fist,
and his flesh tore as Weapon reached up behind his once mentor's rib
cage.
"But you are not God," was the soft husk, the usual monotone left
behind in his moment between Master and Servant, as the Servant
rebelled, "You are mortal man. You attempted to tamper with something
you do not understand. Do not think I do not know of the attempt to
steal one of my students from me. Do not think I do not know of the
spell _you_ cast with which to do so. Do not think that I do not
know... of your partnership with Tomas Riddle."
He withdrew his hand, raking claws across the muscles inside the
elder's chest, a sickening sucking sound coming about as he removed his
limb from the wound. Blood flooded out of the injury, and Weapon stood,
tongue slipping out to lap up the splatters of blood that decorated his
claws as he raised his hand to his mouth. He stared down at the dying
man without emotion, before turning, and striding to the center of the
Great Hall.
Students cowered away from him, eyes still locked on the corpse as it
sunk fully to the ground, the man unable to support himself as his life
blood spilled out across the floor.
And Ron saw the strange doubling of images again, although the image of
the founders revealed that as Salazar walked away, Rowena had lost her
cool, staring at the headless corpse that had been the unknown relative
of Helga Hufflepuff. Things did not always happen exactly the same, and
as Salazar slipped from the hall, Weapon halted directly in the center,
his back to the staff table. The image of the founders faded away,
leaving Ron with a headache.
Weapon's icy silver gaze swept over the students, and he crossed his
arms, Bladewhip and Katar gliding silently to his sides, Hermione
moving to stand directly in front of him, and a hesitant Ron skittering
along behind her. He was already too far into this to back out now.
Weapon nodded to each of his supporters, turning to gaze at Gunn and
Sirius who were slowly recovering and getting back to their feet from
the harsh treatment they had received. But their eyes were on his,
offering him tumultuous smiles of encouragement. To them he nodded as
well, before his gaze returned to the students that hours ago had been
his class mates.
His wings flared out to their full wing-span, feathers brushing across
Katar and Draco's cheeks, the wings surrounding them like a blanket of
warmth for a moment, before the very tips stretched as far as they
could. This impressive show was to bring attention to the fact that he
was not only Dark, but Light as well. He was both, and yet not. He was
above such silly things as Order, he was an agent of Chaos, of the
Balance.
"You have a choice," his voice was back to it's traditional monotone as
he stared unflinchingly into the eyes of the terrified and the angry,
"You can join us in the coming of the Balance, or you can join Daemon
in the hell he belongs to. Whichever you prefer."
After all, what did he care?
He had his Weapons-- Gunn, Dart and Bladewhip. He had the Missing
Weapon as an Ally. He had an Enchantress on his side. He had a
clairvoyant, even if the teenager had yet to realize it. He had all he
needed to bring about the Balance.
Hermione's eyes met his.
And the Balance we shall bring about, the smile on her face was
innocent, but the glint in her eyes held the touch of madness garnered
by her mind sliding across his. The Balance will fix everything.
Even death.
---
End Chapter
I feel this is a good a place as any to cut this off. Sorry's it's
short than 39, but I honestly could work up the thoughts to continue
this out a couple more pages.
So we've finally learned that no, Weapon is _not_ a separate soul, just
a personality. It only took, what? Thirty seven chapters?
And Ron's now a clairvoyant. Why? Because I said so.