"The Charmed Ones?"
Harry, Hermione and Ron were gathered at Number 12, Grimmauld Place at the old kitchen where they used to plan their strategies when they were still at Hogwarts. Strange that this was the place where they gathered once again to do a secret task for the Order once more. This time, they had been told, it was on the dangerous side.
Ron had scoffed that since when their job had been anything but dangerous, and claimed he laughed at the face of danger. Hermione had given him a prim look which shut him up immediately. Now the trio sat at the battered table where their meals had been served countless times during their stay here and meetings had been planned, strategies made and agreements accepted, hands on the table top, slightly relaxed, drinking in the familiar sight and smell of the place. For Harry, it had been ages since he last step foot in here.
Albus Dumbledore, former headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sat across from them, seemingly engrossed in the parchments and photos before him, writing something on a parchment. Dumbledore devoted half his time with the Order, while the other half was anyone's guess. Malfoy had once suggested the headmaster spend his free time prancing about in his underwear yowling to the Rolling Stones in his bedroom which, stuck in Harry's head for weeks until recently.
"They're witches," Hermione supplied primly. "Honestly, don't either one of you ever read up on news?" She noticed their blank stares at her. "Three witches who were foretold by their ancestor Melinda Warren to be the most powerful witches of in their time, the force to stand between good and evil, to keep the balance in place. They date back from the Warren line to the current Halliwell line, though the name Halliwell strikes a chord with the demons they hunt. They use wandless magic, spells and potions. Each witch has her own unique power that is entire her own."
"Wandless magic?" Ron's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Bloody hell!"
"Indeed, Mr Weasley." Dumbledore finally looked up, a twinkle in his eye, oblivious to Ron's swearing just now. "As Ms Granger had so kindly explained, they are a power to be reckon with. Piper Halliwell is the eldest of the three, almost the matriarch of the family, followed by Phoebe Halliwell and finally, the youngest, Paige Matthews, their half sister. I presume you will all find the information here very useful in your research and knowledge."
"Molecular combustion, telekinetic orbing – what is that? Empathy, premonitions, levitation, glamouring... Merlin, the list of powers goes on!" Ron exclaimed, reading the rest silently, with Harry over his shoulder.
"They're in danger from Voldemort, aren't they, Professor?" Harry asked suddenly. "That's why you gathered us here, to give us a lesson about them, so that we can help them."
"Very perceptive, Harry." Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, they are in danger from the Dark Lord. Word has it, he has set his eye on them. The Dark Lord wants no one to stand in his way of power. Although the witches are unaware of his existence, he considers them enough threat. That is why you lot must go to America – San Francisco, to be precise to help them."
"Excuse me, Professor, but I thought you wanted us to protect them from the Dark Lord," said Hermione, puzzled.
"Heavens no!" Dumbledore chuckled. "No, Ms Granger. They are very capable of taking care of themselves, as proven in the parchments I handed to you. No, they don't need protection at all. All I wanr is for the three of you to provide assistance to them." He smiled down at them kindly. "I trust you can do your best in persuading them to accept your help. A portkey has been prepared for your trip to America. You will arrive at Salem, from there, Apparate to San Francisco. You will be able to find their place easily, a rather lovely red Victorian manor at Prescott Street."
"What can we possibly offer to help them with?" Ron questioned.
"That will be for you to decide. Good luck to all of you." Dumbledore nodded to them and Disappate with a soft pop.
"Barmy, that's what he is," said Ron, pushing the rest of the parchments to Hermione.
"Ron," she warned, leafing through the parchments, and finding a photo of the Halliwell witches. It was a muggle photo, taken by an ordinary camera. Three beautiful women standing together with bright smiles at the camera. Even in the photos, Hermione could feel their aura of power, confidence and strength. She wondered if she would grow old to be as beautiful as them. She handed the photo to Ron who whistled.
"They call themselves witches and dress like that?" Ron was ogling at the photo in a leery manner. "Where are the robes? Indecent, they are."
"I see that you're not protesting much either." Hermione sniffed.
"I supposed it means we're off the McBride case for now," Harry remarked to no one particular.
"Dumbledore had Tonks reassign the case over to Neville and Parvati," Hermione said. "We'll be working on this one instead." She read through the history of the sisters, finding it fascinating. "Listen to this. The sisters' powers were bound after their mother's death, and they lived a normal life with their grandmother without any knowledge of their witch heritage. Penny Halliwell – the grandmother, died of a heart attack and thus, the sisters' powers were unbound. The Charmed Ones were born. The oldest sister, Prudence, died in a demon attack a few years after that, breaking the Power of Three. It wasn't until the day of the funeral that they remaining sisters stumbled onto their half sister who was kept hidden from them. The Power of Three was reborn that day."
Ron pretended to snore, to show his boredom. She swatted at him playfully. Harry seemed interested. "They lead normal lives unaware they were magical, just like me," he mused. "Until I received a letter from Hogwarts."
"They've vanquished more than a hundred demons," Hermione stated, not looking up from her reading. "All using spells and vanquishing potions and the Power of Three."
"It only works when the three sisters are together," Ron pointed out.
"It does, doesn't it?" Hermione was now musing over the thought.
"Dumbledore said we can leave now if we want to." Harry was getting up. "Personally, I'd like a good night's sleep before we go haring after the witches."
"All right then." Hermione gathered up the parchments, rolling them, tying them up with a red ribbon. She tucked them in her robes pocket. "We'll meet here tomorrow morning."
The weather in San Francisco was warm and humid all at the same time. It was a weather that Lucius did not particularly liked or enjoyed having. Unlike England where it was often cool, with rain every so often and cool summer nights. No, he did not like the temperature here at all. In his heavy velvet black robes, he was sweating buckets, wiping an expensive, embroidered handkerchief to his face. The band of Death Eaters behind him were faring no better than him. They looked hot, bothered and sweaty, all having conjuring up paper fans which were madly fanning themselves around them. It provided some relief, at least. Lucius did no such thing. Frankly, he thought it was rather pathetic and weak to do so.
They – the half dozen Death Eaters – had portkeyed from London to San Francisco. Now, they were in the middle of a park overlooking the famous Golden Gate Bridge. The lights on the frames cast an orange tint to the bridge, making it glow. From the timepiece Lucius always carried (it was charmed to tell time from whichever continent you are), he could see it was just fifteen after twelve. Most of the denizens would be sleeping about now. He gave orders for them to Disapparate to Prescott Street. They Apparated in front of the house. Even in the dim light of the street lamp a house away and the moon, Lucius could see it was an old Victorian house, practically an antique. He appreciate the fine craftsmanship in building the manor, it was obvious the person had great eye for details, like the stained glass windows, the rich brown oak door with its stained glass. The house was beautiful, and Lucius quite like things that were made with great care and passion.
They entered the house silently, with Lucius muttering "Alohomora!" under his breath, the oak door swinging open without so much as a squeak. Wormtail who was last shut the door loudly, causing Lucius to whirl around and hissed at the fat man in contempt and displeasure. Peter had never been good at skulking around hallways after dark, not unless he was a rat. In human form, he seemed to have the common sense of a goldfish. They stood in the foyer. The temperature in the house was cooler, probably from the wood. The decor inside reflected the nature of the house, with rich wood furnishings around, floral patterned sofa sets, an oak dinning table, hardwood floor, a cozy fireplace which was empty at the moment. There were smattering of framed family photos here and there on the mantel, in the armoire, in the glass cabinets. Photos of smiling, happy people. Only the light in the foyer was on, casting a pale light across the room. Light from the moon outside made everything seem greyish in color, casting dark shadows here and there.
There was a crystal by the staircase leading upstairs, presumably to the bedrooms. The crystal gleamed in the light, putting caution in him. Before he could caution the rest of the team, Wormtail had already placed a foot on the bottom step. The crystal flared, a white hot light that seemed to blind them for a moment, then a loud sound like klaxon echo in the house, shrill in pitch and intensity. He cursed Wormtail for not realizing what it was. Now, he knew. A demonic alarm system. Clever.
"Sometimes, Peter, I wonder if God gave you the sense of a goat," he stated coldly to the cowering idiot. "Prepare yourselves," he informed the band behind.
No sooner had he said it, bright lights of blue and white swirled into the room, almost blinding them. When the lights faded, he could see the five figures spread out around them, looks of fury on their faces, as if they couldn't quite believe anyone had been so bold as to attack them at this hour. Two of them were women, the three were men, two of them young. The brown haired young man didn't wait for orders, he simply thrust out his hand, made a sweeping motion at them, throwing them all off their feet into a pile.
That was when pandemonium broke lose.
Crabbe and Goyle, despite their lumbering stupidity, had enough sense to quickly throw stunning spells at them, managing to stun one of the men but not before the younger blond threw Nott straight onto the dinning table, shattering the crystal vase.
"Leo!" cried one of the women. Her husband then, Lucius realized. Then, those two will be her sons.
"Dad!" The blond young man gestured at the unconscious man, and he disappeared in a swirl of lights, floating upwards through the ceiling.
Wormtail was scrambling away from the brown haired young man, terror in his beady eyes as he squeaked in fear, not wanting to be thrown around. With a pop, he was transformed into a rat with a bare tail, scampering away hurriedly. The young man was taken aback slightly before quickly gestured at the rat, seemingly to stop him in mid motion.
"Crucio!" Lucius shouted, wand pointed at the woman with the long brown hair. She fell to the floor, face contorted in pain as her mouth opened in silent scream. He smiled coldly, knowing the white hot fire that was coursing through her veins, as if burning every vein, every organ, every bone in her body. The Longbottoms had went mad with this curse.
"Hey!" Lucius turned in time to see a fist in his face. He staggered, nearly dropping his wand as his free hand flew up to his nose. It was the twice blessed boy. He looked furious, ready to kill.
Another thud told them, the other woman was stunned by one of his Death Eaters. "Aunt Phoebe!" the other young man cried out, hurrying to her side, throwing Flint to one side. He gestured, and Lucius was treated to the sight of a frozen Flint. Bright lights before made him blinked, and he saw the twice blessed boy had a blue bubble of a shield or some sort around him and the woman. He hurled the Cruciatus Curse at the boy, only to have it bounced off the shield and onto the unfortunate Nott on the table. The Death Eater bolted upright from his unconscious state with a howl of pain, rolling off the table. Lucius's lips twisted into an angry sneer. The Dark Lord never informed him of the boy having a shield.
Not wanting to fall back empty handed, Lucius whirled around, spotting the other boy who had just smashed the grandfather clock on Goyle, rendering him useless. A malicious smile came to his face, one that spoke volumes of what he will do.
"Crucio!" He aimed the wand at the boy, watching in satisfaction as the boy fell to the floor with a cry. He turned around to meet the twice blessed boy and his mother (who else could it be?), mouth in a smirk. He could see his Death Eaters gathered around the shield, their wands pointed at them, ready to fire off a curse or hex the moment it was lowered.
"Chris! Orb out!" the woman inside shouted desperately. "Orb out!"
The boy seemed to take his mother's word for strength, for he suddenly made a fist with his hand, and Lestrange – the only one unharmed all through the ordeal so far – doubled over, choking, gasping, her eyes wide, hands flying to her throat. The boy's eyes were filled with fire, earning a grudging respect from Lucius at his strong will to fight back. He was choking Lestrange, and was not having any qualms about strangling her to death at all.
Lucius drew his foot back and kicked at the boy hard at the head, breaking his concentration and rendering him unconscious. Once the boy was out cold, it seemed as if Wormtail and Flint came back to life. Flint casting a hex at nothing in particular and Wormtail banging into the wall, changing back into human form, rubbing his forehead painfully. Lucius reached for the boy, despite the threats coming from the mother and sibling. They were nothing but empty threats, coming from behind protection. He grabbed the boy by the back of his shirt, just as loud pops alerted him to a new presence in the room. Three new presences, and they were not who he wanted to see at the moment.
Harry had Apparated to the Victorian manor followed by Hermione and Ron, after portkeying from Salem. The journey had been uneventful, save for the warm summer weather which seemed to make the clothes stick on his back like glue. The sight that greeted them was one of shocked disbelief.
"Death Eaters!" Ron growled, recognizing the black robes anywhere. All seem to be aiming their wands at some bright blue bubble at the center of the room. Across them was Lucius Malfoy, one hand gripping the back of the shirt of an unconscious boy, the face filled with malice. The bubble, Ron realized, held a woman and a young man inside. It was protecting them from the other Death Eaters. There was a fierce scowl on the young man's face, as his fists were clenched at his sides. The woman looked like a Fury herself, her expression alternating between anger and worry, her hands hung loosely at her sides.
There was a motionless body of another woman near Nott's feet, her arm flung away from her body, her head lolled to one side. Harry fervently hoped that she had not been hit with a Killing Curse, and just stunned by a spell. The Death Eaters heard the sound of them Apparating in, turned their heads to stare at them in stunned disbelief, as if not quite sure they were really there.
Lucius Malfoy's face had gone comically white, eyes growing round like tea saucers, jaw hanging open in an unattractive way.
"You know, he looks right ugly at the moment," Ron remarked casually.
"Potter!" Lucius hissed, recovering quickly from his shocked disbelief. "I see you've come along with your little ragtag team. Dumbledore must take great joy in sending his three best Order members to face against six Death Eaters. How very brave and foolish."
At that the remaining Death Eaters had turned their attention to them, wands aimed at them. Harry's eyes grew wide a bit then narrowed. They've left themselves open to their enemy behind. He could see the bubble dissipating silently.
"Not really, Malfoy." Harry felt his mouth curved up into a very Draco-like sneer. Years of hanging with the fair headed Slytherin had paid off. "You see, I'm not the one who's foolish at the moment."
The Death Eaters were suddenly send flying all over the room, their loud yells alerting Lucius of the danger behind him. Harry pointed his wand at the Death Eater, lips parted to say the stunning spell in the midst of confusion when Lucius smirked and Disapparated away. The remaining Death Eaters all quickly scrambled to their feet, scrabbling for their wands which were dropped when they were thrown and hurriedly Disapparated.
"No!" The woman let out a cry of rage, lunging towards the spot where Lucius had been moments before. "Chris!"
The young man flicked his wrist at one of the Death Eaters, the blue bubble springing up in place, trapping the unfortunate man. He bounce off the walls of the bubble, unable to Disapparate anywhere at all. Terror was on his face when he realized he was left behind and well and truly trapped.
"Awesome!" Ron exclaimed, seeing the bubble.
"Who are you? Are you with them? If you are, so help me..." The woman had spun around, facing them, the fierce anger on her face never abating.
"We're not!" Hermione spoke out, looking highly offended. "As if we would associate ourselves with Death Eaters."
"Death what?" The young man blinked at her. "Explain."
"Maybe we should check on her first," Harry suggested, angling his head towards the other woman.
"Oh! Phoebe!" The woman hurried to the figure's side, touching her on the shoulder and giving her a shake. "Pheebs, wake up! Phoebe!"
"You can't wake her up like that," said Hermione. She pointed the tip of her wand at the motionless form and said the spell. "Ennervate."
Phoebe came to rather groggily, putting one hand on her pounding head. "Ow, my head. What happened? Who are you?" She noticed them.
"Harry Potter," Harry told her, offering a hand to help her up. "We're here to help you."
Leo had been orbed down by Wyatt and woken with the same spell the girl, Hermione – a rather odd name – had used on Phoebe earlier. During that time, the young man who had introduced himself as Harry Potter had hurriedly explained everything to them in cliff notes version. Piper could deduce one thing. Another power mad warlock or demon was out to get them again. Life could get any more exciting than this. Lead by Wyatt, they all trooped into the sunroom where the straggler had been trapped in the bubble.
He was a shifty eyed man, looking about here and there, seeming almost jittery. The hand holding the wand was shaking, even though he cast them all looks of disdain and hate. "You will all face the wrath of the Dark Lord," he said.
"Excuse me?" Piper raised an eyebrow. She had calmed down enough not to accidentally blowing anything up. She was still furious as hell and worried. "Did I give you permission to speak?"
The man shut up, glaring at her insolently. Harry peered at him then smiled. "Hello, Avery. Fancy you being left behind."
"Potter!" Avery hissed. "You'll soon die by my Lord's hands and it will be a painful death."
"I've lost count of how many times you lot always say that whenever we meet." The redhead, Ron, was saying cheekily to the man.
"Impudent child." Avery glowered. "You know nothing of the shadows that move across all wizarding England, of the Lord's plans. It is beginning, the death of those families. McBride was begging for his life, did you know? The stupid, useless fool."
Ron's face grew red with anger but he restrained himself. Years ago, he would had lunged forward and try to beat the stuffing out of anyone who taunted him or mocked him. "You won't be so self satisfied once we finish with you."
The music of orbs informed them Leo had returned from his trip Up There. Paige was with him, having been picked up on the way over. The half witch looked tired and pale, her hair in a mess and was still in her sleepwear. Her feet were bare, and she wriggled her toes uncomfortably, realizing there were more than family in the sunroom at this unholy hour.
"Piper, I'm so sorry!" she blurted out, immediately heading over to her eldest sister, guilt all over her face. "I should have come over right away."
"Paige, it's all right." Piper smiled at her kindly. "There was nothing you could do anyway. We were outnumbered by wizards with wands." Then her face turned grim. "And they took my baby."
"We'll get Chris back," said Phoebe firmly, placing a hand on Piper's arm.
"What did the Elders have to say? About those wizards who attacked us?" Phoebe asked Leo, turning her attention to him.
Leo met their inquiring looks with a grave face. It was enough to make Piper suspect the worst, the coil of dread at the pit of her belly seem to tighten. She was suddenly frighten for her youngest son.
"Dad," prompted Wyatt gently.
"They've suspected a sudden rise in power over at England, that someone is rising up to the next Source," said Leo somberly. "His name is Voldemort, formerly known as Tom Riddle. He was human once but..."
"Voldemort has been trying to rise to power for years now," Hermione cut in. "He and his followers, the Death Eaters, have been purging London of wizarding families they deem opposing them and those who are muggle born."
"Normal humans who show magic in them," Leo explained to the puzzled looks.
"All those muggles and those who oppose the Dark Lord will burn at his hand," cackled Avery from his bubble. "You may kill me now but many more will rise and join with the Dark Lord."
"Oh, be quiet!" Wyatt snapped, making a fist. The bubble constricted in size, shocking the wizard in the process. He let out a howl of protest and pain until Wyatt released his fingers. "Anymore words out of your mouth and it'll hurt worse."
Avery nodded mutely, although he was scowling at them.
"Harry has been the only thing standing in his way of full power," Ron explained. "Him and us, the Oder. A group of wizards who are gathered to fight against the Dark Lord."
"So, you're here all the way from London to help us," Phoebe said.
"In a way but we also need your assistance," Hermione said.
"They were sent to get our help," Leo told the sisters. "Dumbledore foresaw the attack on us but I'm thinking he didn't see Chris being taken as hostage. We need to follow them back to London."
"And him?" Piper jerked her thumb at Avery. "Can we vanquish him? Or just this?" She flicked her wrist, blowing up the potted plant on the shelf.
Avery paled at the sight of the shattered pottery. He gulped. "You don't want to kill me. I'm human, not a demon. It's against your laws."
"Funny, I don't remember being a law for that." Paige eyed him distastefully. "We'll just bring him along and hand him over to whoever's in charge."
"It's Dementor's Kiss for you, Avery," Harry said, voice toneless. He pitied the man who started to snivel in fear.
When Chris came to, he was laying on his back on something cold and hard. He was also in a rather large room. The ceiling seemed to rose up and up, disappearing into the dark shadows above where the light could not reach. Lattice windows let in the afternoon sun, burning blood red in the horizon, the heavy maroon drapes pushed aside. There was a fireplace at one end of the room but no fire burning, which explained why he was chilled to the bone in his thin t-shirt and pajama bottoms which he had wore to bed. The cold seeped through his skin, raising goosebumps and seemed to gnawed at his bones. He tried moving and found to his mild surprise he was tied to the floor by invisible cords. He let out a breath, turning his head to one side. There was no door in sight. He wondered if he had been shimmered or blinked into the room. There was a full length ornate mirror which reflected his face back to him, showing a pale, tired looking boy with dark shadows under his eyes, dried blood which coated the right temple and a bruise on the cheekbone.
There was a sound like door swinging open on his left, he craned his head to look and saw a short, fat man with beady eyes coming in, followed by another man; this one taller and much better looking than the first but by not much, and lastly by another man dressed in black robes which flowed around him as if he were royalty. The three came through the doorway which had appeared and then disappeared. They came to stand before him, towering above his form. Chris guessed it was a spell or a charm used to make the door visible to the user. He looked up and up at his captors, eyes going from left to right, from the short fat man to the robed figure who reminded him of Darth Vader without the mask.
"Looks like he's awake," said the short fat man, to no one in particular.
"Indeed, Wormtail," drawled the middle man, casting his companion a look of utter disdain, as if unable to believe there was such a stupid person who existed in this world. "As if none of us can see that."
"I believe I requested for the twice blessed, Lucius, and not some little urchin," said the Source copy.
The first man, Wormtail, chortled at his taller companion's look of discomfort. He looked positively gleeful that someone else instead of him had gotten into trouble with the Source copy. Wormtail reminded him of those pathetic lowlifes who had more pride than sense.
"He is the brother," Lucius said smoothly, regaining his composure. "I can assure you, Master, he is just as good as the other boy. He can stop time. He immobilized Peter."
"I wouldn't say that..." Wormtail began but was silenced by the Source copy.
"You know, most people would stop talking when they realize the other person is in front of them," Chris piped up from the floor. "I'm still here, in case you're wondering."
"You will speak when spoken to," Wormtail told him, irritable that his little plan to humiliate Lucius didn't work out quite as well.
"I should have squash you like the bug you are just now," Chris said pitilessly to him. "You're an ugly rat as well, a pitiful coward who cares for the adulation of others and the misery you caused to others."
Wormtail nearly turned purple with rage at his remarks. Lucius seemed amused by Chris's sharp wit despite the situation he was in at the moment. The Source copy reached up with one bony hand, drawing the hood of his robes back, revealing his face. Chris couldn't help it. He let out a surprised sound, gaping at the face.
If the Source was hideous, then this person takes the cake of being the most hideous. His skin was bone white, as if someone had drained him off every drop of blood from his vein, his eyes red and burning with fire, death and hate. He had no lips, only a line to show where his mouth was. His skin stretched over high, bony cheekbones. He was a sight, neither human looking nor demonic looking enough. As if someone had taken a bit of humanity and shoved it in him while making him. When he lifted his arm, the sleeve of his robe fell back, revealing a tattoo of a skull and snake on the forearm. The snake seemed to slithered through one eyehole to the other, hissing at him.
Chris managed to regain his shock at the sight. "What are you? The next Source?" he demanded, still staring at the person.
"I have news of such demon attempting to vanquish the sisters before but failed," said the Source alike. "I am no such person. My power is beyond your comprehension, boy. I am Lord Voldemort."
"So is my brother's," snapped Chris, tugging at his bonds in a vain attempt to get free. "You don't see me complaining now, do you? And I hope my mom and aunts vanquish your sorry ass."
"Such a spitfire," said Voldemort, sounding rather amused. "Perhaps he will do as well, Lucius. He certainly has enough spirit in him and a lot of magic and power."
Chris had heard two people in his life who often said such things, and they were always after one thing only. The power and magic which flows in him or his brother.
"But his sauciness leaves me rather irritable," he continued. He drew out a wand from the sleeve of his robe, pointed it at Chris. "Crucio."
The part Whitelighter had a split second to deflect the spell at him using the empath power he inherited from Phoebe. The curse hit Wormtail instead, and the man fell to the floor in agony, scrabbling about like a dying rat. Lucius looked startled but Voldemort had a pleased expression on his pale face, as if he had expected it.
"Very well done," he said, the wand still pointed at Chris. "But not good enough."
Dark light jetted from the tip of the wand at the helpless Chris.
TBC...
I apologize if I got 12 Grimmauld Place wrong. While I am a fan of Harry Potter, I haven't read the books yet so my description comes from info from fansites. I do believe that should the Charmed Ones' world and Harry's collide, it would incredibly interesting indeed, as their magic are different from each other's. Thanks for everyone who send feedback. Glad to know there are some of you who enjoy this story. - sugarbox