THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS SO FAR! I LOVE YOU ALL!
Sorry this time I don't have as much time to reply to your reviews...school's almost out but I still have to study! I might not be able to update for some time...so I decided to quickly do this chapter so that you could be satisfied before I come back! I'm so sorry again!
Don't own YGO or HP
I hope this wasn't too bad. THank you again, beta readers!
Chapter 15
As they walked down the endless corridors, (Harry leading the way to Umbridge's office), their feet clattering in the empty halls, their conversation echoing off the walls.
"Idiot frog..." muttered Bakura incoherently. His words were followed by more incoherent curses.
Marik only snorted. He leaned in towards the tomb keeper's ears.
"You going to do something a bit more to the baka frog?" he whispered deviously. Bakura began to grin.
"Of course," he replied. "Did not the Pharaoh acknowledged her the consequences? It shall be her own doing if she does not believe it."
Marik smiled. "Shall I join?"
"No...." said Bakura nonchalantly, obviously ignoring the tomb keeper's slightly annoyed and hurt expression. "No, no...you've had your own little verbal standout, Marik sama. Let me do the visual honors while you take the stand."
"You--!"
Their conversation was punctuated with Harry's and the Pharaoh's.
"Apparation lessons," sighed Harry. "I suppose we're about to get our Ministry approved examinations in June or something...."
"Then how come you are able to do it now?" inquired Yami. "I can hardly Disapparate properly at all."
"Kinda funny how Hermione says that all of Hogwarts grounds are unappartionable," commented Harry. "We've been having our lessons okay...with McGonagall, anyways."
"I daresay that she purposefully rendered her own classroom's security for the lesson's sake," hypthosized Yami wisely, though he was looking rather dull as he passed by the various portraits on the walls. "After all, where else can one learn how to Disapparte when there is no teacher present?"
"I suppose," said Harry. Yami, whose eyes had distantly been wandering dully across the castle surroundings, finally regarded Harry a glance. Harry supressed a shudder as those crimson eyes locked with his; so hard, so stern, so firm.
"How is it that you can master such an art far faster than the rest of the class?" asked Yami, smiling.
Harry shrugged. "Hermione and Ron know how to do it pretty quick too...I guess it's simply because Hermione's really smart and Ron's been exposed to a family that always does it." He began to smile also at the memory of Fred and George during his last summer with Sirius in Grimmauld Place.
Yami nodded understandingly.
"What about you?" asked Harry. "What do you find so hard about Disapparating?"
Yami shrugged. Harry noticed his classmate's movements were unusally smooth, as though casually coreographed.
"I suppose it's simply the matter of whether I am motivated to do it or not," replied Yami simply. "It's not of my main priority to be able to appear out of nowhere from another destination. I daresay I do hope that Bakura and Marik do not catch on Apparation that quickly; I fear for the world if they were to manage to pop out of the air without anyone's notice. Imagine the chaos they'd create."
"Bakura?" repeated Harry. He was about to say something about Ryou's timid personality when he remembered their incident beside Lupin's office.
"He seems to be pretty good at appearing out of no-where without magic," said Harry delicately.
Yami blinked suddenly, as though an abrupt realization had struck him.
"Yes," he finally said. "Yes he is."
Harry turned a corner; Yami followed swiftly; Bakura and Marik's bickering voices echoed behind them.
"I feel rather bored," said Yami suddenly, very distantly, as though he was voicing a thought to himself.
Harry blinked, and smiled.
"Quidditch season is coming," he said. "It really is a fun game, Yugi....."
Magic words.
"Have you already figured the members of the team?" asked Yami, his hard red pupils glittering with suppressed enthusiasm now.
"Yeah," replied Harry, still smiling. "Angelina helped me out a lot...she got a couple of new kids to try out, and they're not that bad than the ones we've seen."
"Am I on the team?" inquired Yami smoothly.
Harry grinned. "Yeah. Of course."
"Playing?" the pharaoh prompted.
"Chaser," replied Harry. "Along with Ginny and Colin Creevy. He's actually not all that bad in the air, now that he's a bit over his camera phrase.." Indeed, Colin Creevy, now at age fifteen, was now finally beginning to abandon his eager, overly-enthusiastic eagerness; he still had a camera draped around his neck, though it was far more modern than the one he first came to Hogwarts with, and he certainly was beginning to cease gawking admirably at Harry in the halls.
"Who else?"
"Let's see..." Harry thought hard and began ticking off his fingers. "Ron's Keeper, I'm Seeker, you, Ginny and Colin are Chasers..."
"And the Beaters?" prompted the Games King, though from the look of his face he looked as though he was truly dreading the answer. Harry paused for a moment and glanced behind them. He began to laugh when Yami closed his eyes in exasperation.
"Oi!" Harry called down the hall. Bakura and Marik temporarily stopped bickering and glared death's daggers at him, but from the distance between them, Harry did not notice.
"You guys are Beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Is that alright with you?"
Suddenly Marik and Bakura's agitated pouts flashed a smile. They shared the same evil look as Yami suddenly called, his back to them.
"Don't even think about it, Keeper! Raider!"
"What, Pharaoh?" asked Marik sweetly. "What are we thinking?"
"Yeah...what are they thinking?" asked Harry, slightly confused.
There was a silence as Yami strolled ahead, his back still turned to them.
"Beaters are supposed to beat the OTHER team, Keeper, Raider. Not the King of Games."
"Getting a bit egotistic, aren't you there, Pharaoh?" sneered Bakura as he hurried to catch up.
"Anything to irk your challenge," smirked Yami suddenly.
Harry suddenly stopped short in front of a door, laced frilly pink.
"We're here," he sighed disgruntedly.
Marik, Bakura, Harry and Yami all trudged into the classroom, loooking excetptionaly dark.Marik grimaced at the amount of pink the woman owned; Bakura was openly making disgusted faces at the disturbing kitten portrait, and Yami clearly looked as though he was trying hard to supress saying "ugh."
"Good evening," smiled Professor Umbridge sweetly.
"All in the matter of opinion," said Bakura succinctly, still staring at the repulsive feline.
Professor Umbridge eyed them cautiously. Bakura made an obvious sigh as he teared his eyes away from the kitten's portrait.
"Good evening, Professor Umbridge," he said, his voice just on the brink of mocking her.
"Please...take a seat," she said sweetly. Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were standing next to her, as though her gaurds. Crabbe and Goyle stood behind them.
Seething, all of them sat down. Yami gingerly flicked off a pink pouffe off his chair before sitting down; Marik, whereas, was making quite a big show of it. Bakura simply rattled his seat until his own pink pillow silently rolled to the ground.
"You will write the lines: 'I must pay attention in class' with the black quill given to you," she said sweetly. "You won't need any ink, as Potter will know.There will be no need for talk." She sent a glance at Harry, whose insides were throttled between disgusted and dread. He hadn't told Yami, Marik and Bakura about the quills yet...!
"And you can't attempt to attack me," she added, slightly nervous.Harry raised an eyebrow. Apparently his former DADA professor had reached paranoia since the centaurs' incident. She gestured to the Slytherins. "I have them to reflect your attacks. Should you be able to defy their attacks, then you shall face the consequences I have hidden in this room.
"Shuddup old hag," muttered Bakura as he sat down, though as milky bangs shielded his expression from view, Yami, Marik and Harry all caught a glint of a mischevious smirk. He picked up his quill and began writing on the parchement paper out in front of him.
Yami had also picked up his quill; though as soon as he began writing he felt a searing pain on his hand. Droplets of blood oozed slightly before his skin healed immediately over. Yami glared angrily at his hand, his eyes wide in repulsive shock. Technically, although he was in control, this was Yugi's body! He promised no harm would come to it! He hastily glanced around to see his comrades' reactions (Bakura was snarling silently as he watched blood pour down his wrist) and then glanced back on his hand. Suddenly he jerked up straight in his chair Shocking comprehension dawned onto him as he turned hastily towards the Keeper.
"Oh no..."
The Egyptian tomb keeper was staring at his hand, as though in a horrified, vengeful trance. He slowly flexed his fingers, as though trying to prevent them from wringing Umbridge's neck.
"Mr. Ishtar?" inquired the sweet voice. "I'm sorry, but you have to write."
"Might I request another quill?" he asked, low and deadly with forced politeness. Yami didn't think it was politeness at all. It seemed as though he was almost threatening her to say no.
"Marik..." warned Yami, though he was worried himself with his comrade's emotional health.
"Motou!" barked Malfoy with a smirk. "Do your work, or Proffessor Umbridge might expel you. No talking with other classmates during detention!"
Marik was looking utterly dangerous as he ignored Yami. Harry looked up; Bakura also seemed to be glancing Marik danger signs, at which the Egyptian also disregarded. "Well...Professor?"
Umbridge's smile widened. "Oh no.. I'm sorry, Ishtar, but one who's in detention does not have the position or authority to request things for their pleasure. Just keep writing until the message sinks in, carved on your hand. That's what's meant to be in my detention. It's sort of like..fate, isn't it?" She threw her head in laughter. The Slytherins joined.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash.
"FUCK FATE!!"
"Marik!" yelled Yami. "Stop!" He flew off his chair.
The young Egyptian Tomb Keeper was on his feet, breathing heavily. The desk he was writing on was lying on the ground, one of its legs splintered from his sudden violent ascend. He rapidly pulled out his Rod and thrusted it at Umbridge.
"Give me another quill," he said softly, his lavender eyes flashing. Harry quickly stood up and ran towards him. He recognized the Rod...though not knowing its full potential, Harry knew that it was certainly something dangerous.
"Marik, no!" yelled Harry, attempting to pull the Keeper away, but Marik simply threw hiim off with heavy violence. Harry crashed into a nearby desk. For once, Harry was glad of the pink pouffle on the chairs and the shelves; upon each of his schoolmates' ascend, each of them had strewn a pouffle on the ground in the making, causing contact with the floor much more tolerable.
"May Ra never allow you to your afterlife!" he yelled, brandishing the Rod at the fellow terrified looking Slytherins. "And may the Shadows consume your wretched souls!! You never knew what you got yourself into!!"
The Slytherins cowered, despite their oath to protect Umbridge. Marik's face radiated with heat, his face contorted in such a terrible, fiery fury as he began to approach the teacher's desk.
Harry tried to helplessly prevent the attack. He didn't understand why Marik was being like this...it was just a cut...a sick cut made my Umbridge, but nothing..nothing purely dangerous. He scrambled himself from the pouffle strewn floor and threw himself in front of Marik.
"Stop it, Marik!" he yelled desperatedly. "What are you doing?"
"Marik!" Bakura had also gotten to his feet, chocolate eyes flashing. "You baka!! Control yourself!!"
For a frightening instant, Marik's hair flew into the air, half his face seemed to blur and tear away from its owner, and a glow of an Eye appeared on his head. Alarmed, Yami thrusted himself into what could've been Yami Marik, who toppled over, crashing into the desks. The Millenniun Rod fell from his hands and clattered across the floor.
"PHARAOH NO BAKA!!" yelled Marik as he violently threw his arm across Yami's face. Yami recieved a heavy blow and winced as he was thrown into the wall, groaning. Bakura hastily ran towards the fallen Millennium Rod, but somehow, Marik, fuelled by his sudden anger, was much faster, and managed to throw his elbow sharply into the tomb robber's stomach as he approached.
"Che," muttered Bakura, his knees buckling as he grabbed his stomach. "I never knew he had this much strength when he was pissed."
Umbridge looked utterly shocked. "Mr. Ishtar!" she cried. "Control yourself! Behave properly, or I'll have you expelled."
"You have no idea..." repeated Marik deadly, standing up, his Rod in his hands. "You have no idea. Either give me a new quill, or I willexpel you to the Shadows!!"
Umbridge looked throughly frightened. "Malfoy! Quickly!"
The Inquisitorial Squad attempted to stun Marik but were stunned themselves by Bakura, Harry and Yami. Each of them collapsed to the ground except Malfoy, who had skillfully ducked the crimson flashes. Yami desperatedly tried to distract himself from the wall.
"Tomb keeper! Control yourself!" Far too late, the pharaoh had realized the words that had flew from his lips. "--Marik!!"
Marik had snapped. He instantly tensed up and was still, his lavender pupils flashing.
"MARIK!" yelled Bakura suddenly. "Baka! Behind you!!"
Far too late, Malfoy had pounced onto Marik, and they were struggling hard. Umbridge's wand was on fire by one of the spells that were sent by the Slytherins. Frightened, she cringed farther away from the students, looking terrified as Malfoy and Marik became a heavy crumpled ball of flinging fists and legs.
The Slytherin was rather strong, though Marik was stronger. He rammed his fist into the fleshiest place he could find among the mass of black and was satisifed when he heard a painful, high-pitched groan. The threw Malfoy off and quickly stood when there was a sudden loud ripping noise.
Marik's pink shirt had been ripped off, and his back was now bare for all to see.There was an precarious, utter silence.
Harry's mouth fell open.
He had never seen such a scar...or was it a tattoo? The Egyptian boy's smoothly tanned back bore heavy, intricate drawings of detailed minute heiroglyphics, shining white against his skin. Harry couldn't possibly imagine how deep those cuts had to be in order to be so white.
Marik was looking percariously dangerous. His face was beginning to look a lot more manly as his eyes narrowed. Mafloy, throughtly frightened, backed away, ripped pink shirt in hand. Marik slowly turned around.
"Bastards," he swore under his breath. Gritting his teeth, he looked up at Umbridge.
"It was a mistake for you to give me that quill," he snarled, stroaking his Rod slowly. "At least you didn't burn it, didn't chain me down and tore at my flesh no matter how hard I protested.... but how would you feel, given your own punishment?" He clenched his Rod harder, the smooth surface hot from his grasp, slippery from his sweat. "The fate is yours to choose Umbridge. Either way you are far worse off than you can possibly ever imagined. From experience, I can certainly give you a tomb keeper's initiation right now. Or would you perfer to be banished and consumed by the Shadows?"
Marik threw out his Rod. "PENALTY GAME!"
Umbridge hastily opened a drawer.
Out swooned a dark cloaked figure. The atmostphere in the room became suddenly cold and deary, a room of the dead. Harry recognized the terrible form.
"A dementor!" he yelled. "Expecto Patronus!"
But somehow, the spell was defective. There was a loud clatter and sudden yells of pain. He watched in horror as Marik collapsed on the ground, clutching his head, yelling in agony. Seconds later, Yami also fell onto his knees, moaning slightly. Bakura then collapsed after him, his face in the expression of utmost rage.
Yami saw the floor meet with his eyes as he went down. Flashes of unprovoked memories now swept over him, clouding his thoughts, his senses, like a cold tidal wave, drowning his conciousness, suffocating his awareness.... Flashes of unknown memories flooded in front of his eyes...he recognized them, in horror, as his own fears, his own hated memories..
...one of them was Joey...he had betrayed Yugi...held under Marik's spell...
...another was Yugi, in his soul room, not talking to him, because he wanted to attack Kaiba....
...there was Yugi, in a warehouse...being bullied, and Yami couldn't do anything because he was inside the Puzzle...
...there was Yugi, hanging from his wrists next to Yami, slowly being eaten by the Shadows...
Screams of pain, threats of hatred, taunts of friends screeched shrilly in his ears. Yelling, Yami tried his best to fight the hated memories, but then suddenly, his head muddled, his thoughts congealed, he heard sounds that were entirely unknown to him.
"Pharaoh! You are too drained....! You don't have enough energy to fight!!"
"Kukukuku," laughed an evil voice. "Pharaoh-yo, Prince-sama, come on, fight me. Lord Zork has already rampaged the city..."
"Bakura!" Yami recognized his own voice. The commmotion of his other memories evaporated; his mind was now clear, almost eagerly listening to this new, unknown surrounding... But...what was happening? He had to save the city, he had too...
He saw flashes of a horse, riding into the night, he felt cold blood trickling down his forehead...he actually touched his head but felt nothing...
...what was happening?
"Kukukukuku," laughed the voice again, far more sinister and low. "Prince-sama, you've fallen right into my trap. Lord Zork is ready to rampage the city...do you dare let your stubborness be the cause of the deaths of so many children?"
Children? Oh no...he had to save them...he had to....!
"Bakura!" yelled his voice. Yami couldn't help but notice that the voice was distant...was strained...it was not his voice now that said it..was it..a memory? He didn't say anything...
Bakura?
As in...Bakura?
"You can save them, pharoah-yo," replied the voice. Yami's eyes widened as he recognized that same, low pitch, that tint of insanity, that deadly sneer. "If you only give me your Millennium Item."
He felt a foreign emotion that he didn't feel now...a wave of anxiety and hate swept through his heart, his lips felt as though they were bleeding from biting them too deep, his mouth salty and dry from blood...
In defeat, he felt the Millennium Puzzle being lifted from his head; he saw stained blood on his hands as he gave the Item to Bakura...
Now! he thought. Now that he is distracted...
Wait a minute, thought Yami. Distracted from what?
"SLIFER!! ATTACK!!" Yami heard his voice once again, and there was a flash of red as a dragon purged on forward, towards the unsuspecting Bakura. But something blocked the attack; Yami felt an extordinary pain searing through his chest, blood spurted from his mouth in seething sheets through his clenched teeth...the pain...the pain...
"Kukukuku.." laughed the voice again. "Prince-sama, you should've known never to try something like that on me. I am Bakura. King of Theives. And I always get what I want."
There was another pain; though this didn't seem internal, it was as though someone had hurtled out of nowhere and rammed themselves into his already beaten chest...he fell to the floor, wincing and moaning...
He had to get up. He had too! Yami tried his best to get up, but something restrained him. Why couldn't he get up? He had to save the children...
There was another violent assault, this time in his ribs, hurtling him towards the cliff. He grabbed at the edge, hoping, through his weakness, that he could pull himself up...
...a manly form appeared in front of him, standing on the ledge, his red cloak flying in the wind, his dark skin shadowed in the darkness, his brown eyes narrowed and cold, a scary scar trickling from his right eye, his short, pointy, cropped hair...
...The MIllennium Ring!
It was on his chest, flashing madly...
"Bakura..." his voice whispered, trying to be stronger, but was weak from his wounds. Yami felt his own sear of hatred. Oh the humility to be at the mercy of Bakura....
"Bakura!!" Yami yelled. He now knew this was a he say anything? Could he be heard?
"Oh, I don't do mercy, pharoah-yo," whispered the voice. "It was your command that made it so. How the Millennium Items were created from dead flesh and blood. Created by your orders. Now I can retrieve all the Items again....without you in my way."
A foot stepped violently on his hand, the only thing holding his survival. He tried his best to hold on..but the foot pressed hard, twisting and turning, causing him more pain...
A rough hand grabbed his hair, pulling him up savagely, though yet the foot remained grinding his hand from the ledge...his face was thrusted upwards, to meet those of his nemesis....he could not see the features of the tomb robber, only that mad, evil glint and that cold, unearthly sneer...
"Die, Pharaoh."
Suddenly his hair was released, he was pushed from the cliff, his hand was thrusted away from the ledge...he was plummeting into the darkness that was surrounding him...
No! thought Yami. This can't be...! Bakura, what do you think you're doing? Where am I? Who am I? Could it be..?
Yami's eyes widened in horror.
"Goodbye, Prince Atemu..." whispered the voice
/CHE!/ thought Bakura, clutching his head/What Ra-damned hell is the matter with me?/
/Bakura!/ Ryou's voice was so distant...so distant...
/Ra-dammit/ he swore again.
Suddenly, flashes of different visions passed his eyes, he stared in horror...
There was fire everywhere...the roaring flames had a fury of their own, but they weren't loud enough to drown the screams of agony and pain...Bakura felt something...he felt tears down his face...
Tears? he thought angrily to himself. What was this?
Ryou heard his darker side's yells of agony...worried, he rammed his shoulder into the door of his darker side's soul room...inside was a dark, scary maze, with traps and tortures...Ryou saw a door on fire and ran towards it...Bakura's voice was drifting from here...
He ran on and on, until he kicked down the door, and a terrible horror met his eyes.
"Bakura!" he yelled, through the horror that met his eyes. Shadows of men with swords attacked andn attacked, swiping at every human being, blood was splattered across the walls...
Ryou saw a small, huddled boy hiding behind the pillar..the boy was crying, crying, his innocent eyes wide in terror...
Ryou quickly ran to the boy and tried to drag him away from the horror, but his hand slipped through. Ryou stepped back, realizing what this incident was.
It was his darker side's ancient memory...!
Confused, having no idea what to do, he wrapped his arms around the little boy, hoping it would at least be of some comfort...
NO! Bakura thought, tears streaming down his face. The heat swept over him, closing in on him, wrapping his small body in its unholy folds. Embers flicked their ways across his eyes, yet he did not close them, only continued to stare in wrenched horror at the sight before him.
Silouhettes collapsed on the ground, screams filled the night. A sudden shadown fell down next to him, lifelessly, her hand out stretched towards him. He recognized the woman's face, once full of beauty but now torn and burned...he recognized that trademark, snowy crops..
Mother!
Suddenly a soldier appeared behind her. Clearly unaware of the small child hiding behind the pillar, he brought down his sword.
Bakura did not scream. He stayed still, frozen, eyes wide and tears streaming anew...
...Bakura tried to get up, tried to run over..
..why couldn't he do it?
The tomb robber growled...that man...that soldier..he could've beaten him in no time...why were tears streaming down his face, why couldn't he control the situation? Was he there at all?
A memory, he thought suddenly. This was a memory.
The memory.
The Massacre of Kuru Eruna.
Ryou sudddenly gasped as he realized the snowy crops of the little boy he was holding. He turned around and looked straight into the boy's eyes...
"Bakura!"
Ryou gaped at the little boy, his face streamed with tears, his eyes wide and innocent, slowly clouding with this terrible memory.
What the hell?! Bakura thought. Ryou!!
He quickly forced himself to produce Shadow magic to extract himself from his childhood body, and appeared in front of his hikari.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he yelled.
"Trying to help you!" said Ryou, almost pleading. "I was worried!"
"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," growled Bakura back. Ryou stared in disbelief into his darker half's eyes, before fleeing back to the door. Bakura watched in bewilderment after his hikari's running form, but shrugged and return watching his memories.
I wonder what the pharoah's thinking...he thought.
He couldn't prevent the memory of pain though; he couldn't stop the rememberance of each scream and terror, and that his heart was being ripped about because of the death of his loved ones.
Bakura found himself tear stained eventually.
Harry looked around, trying his best to think of a happy memory. It was so hard...not to do so...with the Dementor...He looked towards his fallen comrades; Yugi looked confused and in pain; Bakura was in the postion of utmost anger, but his face was serene and solemn...they seemed alright...at least ...for now...
...Marik!
...Marik was clutching his head, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.
Marik couldn't believe what he saw. No...not after all this! He was surrounded by cold walls, like a prison, in darkness where light was supplied by the little candles. His torso was bare and cold...he was shuddering, but of what? The cold? Of course not.
He fought against the robed figures who held him. he screamed for Odion, he didn't want to do this...
Hands closed upon hiim and his linen shirt was ripped down; he torso was stipped naked; hands threw him and tried to suppress his struggles. He tried to fight, he didn't want to do this...
He was thrown onto a stone table, on his stomach, his shoulder-length hair pulled up, leaving his back bare and clean. Cold, thick shackles were chained to his wrists and ankles, so that he now laid full-spread, eagle-spread, across the slab of cold, hard stone. A folded fabric was put in front of him so that he could rest his head.
He fought hard against the the shackles, tears streaming down his cheeks. The chains were attached to the stone bed, so that he couldn't get up or even struggle very well. The chains were then adjusted so that he couldn't even move. A thick stick wrapped with rope as then put into his mouth, between his teeth, like a horse's nuzzle.
Crying, he turned his head up and saw the figure of his father, black robed, holding a knife in the flame of a burning candle.
"Father..." he pleaded through the nuzzle. "Please father...don't do this...I don't want to...don't give me the initiation! Please! I'll do anything!"
His begs were ignored as the man then approached him, knife in hand, white-hot from the flame.
"Father!" he cried. "Please! Please! Odion wants to do it...let him do it...I don't want to!"
Realizing he could not be stopped, Marik buried his face in the fabric, not wanting to see was was going to happen, hoping all the while that the terror would never come. Tears spread across the fabric.
"Please don't let it hurt," he whispered.
The knife slit down his back.
His screams of pain echoed through the cold, empty barrier as the knife was slit, again and again, into his back. He clenched hard against the nuzzle, sweat trickling down is face, the fabric now not just wet with tears, but with his soaken blood. Blood spilled onto the stone, and onto the floor.
"Aughh...no..no, stop, please...stop..please....AH!!"
The same pleads were repeated, again and again, as blood swept onto the ground.
"...stop...please...ARGH!! Father...please...don't...no more, please..! It hurts! It hurts!"
He cried, he sobbed, into the pillow.
"I hate the pharaoh
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
A form of a stag appeared and rammed his head into the Dementor. The cloaked figure disappeared, and everyone slumped onto the ground.
Harry stood there, panting, not believing that Umbridge could've sent a Dementor to protect herself.He stopped short.
She sat there, her face glazed, her mouth slacked. However, a dark figure stood in front of her, a cold looking female with elf ears and a cracked baby in her arms. The baby was chattering eerily. Harry gulped automatically..what was this new monstrosity?
Suddenly, however, Harry's stag Patronus rapaged itself against the monster...the monster cracked and shattered into oblivion before Harry realized where he had once saw that same monster.
..when Bakura was duelling...!
Clearly Umbridge was out of it entirely. Her eyes were glazed and distant, and her mouth began to bead little droplets of drool from the corners. Harry quite truthfully, didn't very much care for her wellbeing. He quickly turned to his friends. Marik had been muttering incoherently; now he was silent. Harry could only make out things like, "Stop...it hurts...it'll scar for life...stop..". He was very worried about Marik. He turned and saw Draco Malfoy on the floor, head face down.
Yami was breathing heavily, beads of sweat running down his face. Panting, he stood, looking slightly weak and bewildered. He slumped into the nearest chair and held his head in his hands, as though tending a large headache.
Bakura stood, his expression crossly blank. He also sat in a chair and massaged his head.
Harry looked at Marik, and, expecting to see him also standing, was shocked to find that the boy was still on the ground, tears glistening on his face. Bakura seemed to be the first who gained from his composure and yelled, "Marik!"
Yami's head quickly snapped up and he ran towards his fallen friend. He was soon joined by Bakura and Harry.
"Marik..Marik..you there?" called Bakura. Harry seemed to have the impression that Bakura didn't want to show that he cared.
"Tomb--Marik..." called Yami softly. "Marik...it's us...Yugi, and Bakura...can you hear us?"
"We need help," said Harry, standing up. "I'll go get Dumbledore. Will he be alright?"
"What was that?" asked Yami, trying to turn Marik over. "Give me a hand, Bakura?"
Bakura disgruntedly attempted to comfort the Egyptian boy.
"It was a dementor," said Harry softly. "They're beings that evoke your worst memories if you have enough. Many people don't have that many dreaded pasts, so they can only feel how cold it does get when a Dementor is around. But...if you ..have a bad past, a horrible memory, they can make you relive it over and over and over, until it drives you insane."
Yami and Bakura both looked very worriedly at Marik; their eyes were flickering from his head to his back. Harry couldn't help but gape at the heiroglyphics on his friend's back.
"Well, don't just stand there looking like an idiot," snapped Bakura. "Go get help!"
Harry, startled out of his trance, nodded and ran out of the classroom.
"Marik," called out Yami softly. "Marik...it's okay, it's gone now..."
"Che..." muttered Bakura. He was trying to get the Rod out of Marik's hand, but was very unsuccessful.
"You're trying to steal when he's like this?" asked Yami, in utter disbelief.
"No," snapped Bakura back. "I just don't want this thing in his possession when his darker side comes back." He tugged madly at the Rod and swore when he couldn't get it from Marik's grip.
"Here," sighed Yami exasperatedly. He flipped Marik over and laid him against the teacher's desk. Marik's expression was weak and pained. Yami brushed his hair out of his eyes.
"Marik," he called. "Can you hear me?"
"He's obviously out, Pharaoh," snarled Bakura. He slapped Marik across the face.
"Bakura!!"
"They do that when someone's unconcious!" protested Bakura.
"Imbecile," muttered Yami as he shook Marik gently. "What do you think?" he asked Bakura quietly.
"We saw our memories, didn't we, pharaoh?" replied Bakura solemnly. "Did you see yours?"
"Yes," murmured Yami. "I did."
"Know your name now?" asked Bakura.
"No," said Yami, shaking his head. "What did you see?"
Bakura shrugged indifferently. "I've caused worse."
"We must discuss this afterwards," said Yami lowly. "This must be important."
Bakura nodded.
"Should we let our hikaris take over? It's not like we can do anything in our present state. Maybe Ryou has some ingenious spell to bring Marik back."
"Worth a try," said Yami. "Yugi's dying to see Marik."
There was a flash of light and Ryou and Yugi were now next to Marik.
"That must've been horrible," whispered Ryou quietly.
"Marik?" called Yugi. "Marik...it's me..Yugi..."
He gently hugged his friend; Ryou saw slight tears in Yugi's eyes. He sighed, remembering Yugi's strong faith in friendship.
"Do you know how to wake him?" asked Yugi.
"I can't ...remember," admitted Ryou, frustrated.
There were footsteps, and Dumbledore soon appeared in the door, along with Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and Harry.
"What happened?" gasped Professor McGonagall, staring at the surroundings. "What on earth..?" She quickly hurried to Marik without a second glance at Umbridge or the unconcious Slytherins. Snape's face was turning rather puce-like as he quickly hurried to Malfoy.
"A dementor," said Harry. "Professor Umbridge had one and released one on us."
"But why on earth would she do that?" demanded McGonagall.
Harry sighed, looking terribly awkward.
"Marik," said Ryou. "Marik. You see...." Yugi gestured slightly to the pink shirt; Ryou quickly snatched it and slipped it back on the unconcious tomb keeper.
"...er...he got...sort of provoked," said Yugi hastily. When McGonagall, Dumbledore and Snape were not looking, he quickly gestured to Harry to be quiet.
"Provoked?" repeated McGonagall crisply. "With what? Lines?"
Ryou pointed to his hand, where the line, "I must pay attention in class" was still scrawled on his hand. "Professor Umbridge made us write in our hands like this...and Marik...he has, er, issues. When something like this happens, he looses control of his emotions."
"Why on earth would he?" asked McGonagall.
Ryou and Yugi looked slightly guilty and awkward; they didn't really want to tell them why Marik hated having cuts and such. Yami quickly took over; and so did Bakura.
"He was abused when he was young," lied Bakura smoothly. "So when things like this happen to him; cuts especially, he looses it because it reminds him of his hated memory."
Harry remembered what Marik had said. That fit...
No, wait a minute, he thought. Ryou lied. Marik it be...that he was remembering when he got that scar on his back?
Harry didn't trust himself to say anything.
"Can you wake him?" asked Yami.
Dumbledore nodded. "It would be best if he were concious, Mr. Motou, or else he would suffer more from his collapse. I suppose his memory must've been rather horrid in order to cause such a collapse in such a strong boy."
He pointed his wand at Marik. "Enervate."
Marik's eyes slowly opened, his lavender eyes glistening weakly with tears.
"What...what happened?" he whispered.
"It's okay," coaxed Yami. "It's okay. You , that's all."
"Don't leave us like that, baka!" said Bakura indignantly. Marik smiled, but his eyes were incredibly dark and angry.
"Are you alright, Mr. Ishtar?" asked Dumbledore.
Marik nodded, muttering yes. Dumbledore produce a large bar of Honeyduke's best chocolate, almost a foot in length and two inches in width, and handed it to Marik.
"Eat up," he said. "You've been through quite the ordeal. I suggest that we get you to the Hosptial Wing soon."
Marik looked too overwhelmed to argue. He slowly opened his mouth and began to eat the chocolate. Yami and Bakura had to half carry him to the hospital room; along the way, he seemed oblivous to his surroundings; his eyes were distant.
They put him to bed, though Madame Pomfrey insisted that he finished the chocolate before she'd give him his sleeping potion. Marik finally finished and drank his potion and fell asleep instantly. Harry wanted to stay, but Dumbledore suggested it was best if Marik only had his closest friends next to him when he awakens. McGonagall, Dumbledore and Snape left to recover Umbridge and the Slytherins, Harry, with a quiet goodnight, went back to the common room. The Hospital Wing was empty, the only occupants near one bed.
Yami and Bakura stayed with Marik the entire night, by his bedside. Neither of them made a sound as they watched the Keeper sleep. Neither of them turned away when they realized that Marik was silently crying in his dreams.
Waah! This chappie was so sad!! Aww...pwwoor Marik!! I know you all asked for Umbridge torture,but I really had to get this one done first. Now that she's hurt our poor Marik-kun, she'll be in even more pain when she comes back from the Shadow Realm!!
Yeah, she's in teh Shadow Realm. Nice touch eh? I think I'm the actual fust YGO/HP crossover writer to acutally BANISH the evil frog....toad....thing.