Yuugiou!
Episode Nine and Three Quarters
Once I started on this chapter, I couldn't help but stay up all night to finish it. I'm definately proud of it, and I hope everyone likes it. Last chapter coming after this; this actually took less time to rewrite than I thought it would. Scary. O.o
Enjoy.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN – TEARS OF GOLD
Yuugi moaned softly as he awoke, his head pounding so hard that he could hear a throbbing sound in his ears. He forced his eyes to focus, seeing that he was sitting down on a cold stone floor, tied up with his hands pulled behind him, leaning against something warm that was wriggling slightly. Before him was what looked like the back of a mirror, and he could see a bit of Quirrell's purple robes underneath.
"You awake, kid…?" came Bakura's voice softly. Yuugi peered back to see it was the tomb robber he was leaning against, tied up in a similar manner he was. "You okay?"
Yuugi nodded. "More or less. You?"
"I'll live," he replied. "You might want to switch places with the pharaoh. It's probably going to get dangerous from here on out."
Yuugi pursed his lips, but nodded in agreement, switching places with Atemu a moment later. The pharaoh actually looked worried as he turned back to Bakura. He bit his lip, before nuzzling against the smaller boy as best he could.
"Don't worry…" he murmured. "I'll protect you, Atemu…"
The pharaoh turned a bit pink, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. Before he could say anything, though, Quirrell swore loudly, coming toward them.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he sneered… before grabbing Atemu by his hair, dragging him to the front of the mirror. Bakura cursed, almost loosing his balance.
"What are you doing, you bastard!" he demanded.
Quirrell ignored him, however; shoving Atemu before the mirror. "What do you see? What does it show you?"
The pharaoh was about to ask if he was crazy… when he noticed that it was not just him reflected in the mirror. Yuugi was kneeling beside him, looking worried about what Quirrell was doing. Atemu stared, before glancing to where his outer self was supposed to be… only to see empty air. He was just in the mirror, and if the way Quirrell was looking was any indication, he could not see him either. This mirror… did it show the future? Or…
His eyes widened slightly. Of course… it showed a person's desire… what they really, truly wanted in life; and if the way Quirrell was carrying on, the Philosopher's Stone must have been inside the mirror!
"Tell me what you see!" Quirrell demanded. Atemu glared up at him defiantly.
"I see you rotting in the belly of Ammit!"
The professor did not look happy in the least. He grabbed Atemu, tossing him to the side as he pulled his wand from his robes.
Atemu did not hear the incantation he used, but he doubt he would have recognized it even if he did. Pain filled his entire being… pain so excruciating… He writhed, crying out in agony, unable to even hear his own screams over the buzz that seemed to fill his mind. As suddenly as it began, though, it stopped, leaving the pharaoh gasping for breath, head lolling to the side…
Harry had just arrived…
-.oOOo.-
After seeing the traps the professors had prepared to protect the Philosopher's Stone, Harry definitely had more respect for his teachers. There had been a room filled with flying keys, where he had to take a broom and capture the one that would open the door forward. There had been a troll, but fortunately it had already been knocked out before they got there. Beyond that was a giant chessboard, where Seto and Ron had directed them and the rest of the pieces in what had to be the biggest game of chess known to man. The last room was a game of logic – Snape's logic – where they had to drink one of two potions to either go back or go forward through a ring of magic flames; something Hermione had solved almost easily.
Their progress had not come easily, however. In the game of chess, Ron had to sacrifice himself, ending up hurt badly by the opposing Queen in order for Harry to checkmate the King. In the potion room, there had only been enough of the potion to go forward for one person. Harry… he had to go forward, leaving Hermione, Malik, and Seto to go back, promising to take Ron to the hospital wing and send off a letter to Dumbledore immediately.
After they left, Harry had bravely stepped forward, into the final room. What he saw, though, he had not exactly counted on: Professor Quirrell, somehow torturing Atemu. He had stopped when he burst through the door, smirking at him as Atemu lay gasping in pain.
"Ah, Mr. Potter," Quirrell began. "So nice of you to join us."
"Y…you… but… but Snape…!" was all Harry could manage. He could not believe this…
"Yes, he does seem the type, doesn't he?" Quirrell replied, stepping toward him. "It made things so much easier for me with him swooping about the school like an overgrown bat."
Harry shook his head, trying to absorb all of this. "But… at the first Quidditch match… he tried to kill me!"
"Oh no, Mr. Potter. I tried to kill you," Quirrell informed him as Bakura crept out from behind the Mirror of Erised, shrugging off ropes as he made his way to where Atemu had grown quiet. "I would have succeeded if Snape hadn't been muttering that damnable counter-curse, not to mention getting knocked over by Ms. Granger when she went to set Severus' robes on fire."
The thought that Snape had actually tried to save him made Harry's eyes widen in shock. He shifted his gaze to just over Quirrell's shoulder, spotting Bakura helping Atemu as far away from them as he could. Harry bit his lip; he had to give them time… had to give the pharaoh time to recover…
While Harry kept Quirrell distracted, Bakura set Atemu down in a corner of the room, carefully removing the ropes that bound him. Gods, hearing the pharaoh scream like that… seeing him in such pain… Bakura would never say it aloud, but that had scared him so much… The pharaoh looked back at him once the ropes were off, eyes still showing a bit of pain.
"Bakura…" he murmured, voice slightly hoarse from screaming.
"Shh…" Bakura replied soothingly, smoothing his hair a bit. "It's okay… I won't let him hurt you like that again… Just stay here… stay safe."
Atemu bit his lip, but nodded, just as there came the sound of a struggle, and Bakura looked to see Quirrell drag Harry in front of the mirror. He frowned before crouching… waiting…
"Tell me what you see," Quirrell hissed threateningly.
Harry gulped, only able to see himself, scared and shaking, in the mirror at the moment. Another moment passed before the him in the mirror winked, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a blood-red stone. Harry stared as the other him winked again, before dropping the stone back in his pocket… and suddenly, he felt a weight in his own pocket, as if there were something inside… Quirrell had not noticed it thankfully, but somehow, miraculously, he had obtained the Philosopher's Stone!
"Well?" Quirrell demanded. "Tell me what you see!"
"I… I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore. I've won the house cup!"
It was such a horrible lie, that even Bakura winced. Quirrell did not seem to notice though, as he tossed Harry aside and returned his attention to the mirror, ignoring them completely. As soon as he was sure the professor was not paying him any heed, Harry went to go for Bakura and Atemu, hoping they could escape while they had the chance…
He lies… He lies…
Harry nearly froze at the detached voice… the same voice that had told Quirrell to put him before the mirror…
Quirrell whirled around. "Potter!"
Bakura sprang up, rushing the back of the mirror and ramming into it as hard as he could. The mirror teetered, before falling forward, right on top of Quirrell.
"Run Harry!" he bellowed.
The young wizard managed to run a few steps toward the door before the mirror and Bakura flew away from Quirrell. There was a shattering sound when the mirror hit the wall, followed by a thump as the tomb robber hit another. He slumped down to the floor, shaking his head as stars swam before his eyes. Quirrell got to his feet, looking enraged…
Let me speak… face-to-face…
Quirrell froze, face paling at the voice's request. "Master, you are not strong enough!"
I have strength… for this…
Quirrell turned away from Harry as he reached up for his purple turban. The young wizard stood there, transfixed, a look of abject horror on his face as the professor removed the cloth layer by layer until what was underneath was slowly revealed. Under it, the professor was completely bald, what hair that was supposed to be there replaced with a deathly pale face, with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils. It twisted about, as if it were not really attached to the back of Quirrell's head, but instead was hovering formlessly just before it.
Voldemort…
"Harry Potter…" the face sneered. Harry tried to take a step back, but he was so horrified, it was doubtful he could even speak, not to mention move. "You see what I have become, Potter? Mere shadow and vapor… only able to survive with a living host. Unicorn blood has been able to sustain me, but once I have the Elixir of Life, I can again have my own body… Now, be a gentleman and give me the Stone in your pocket."
Harry finally took a step back that time, nearly tripping over a set of stairs behind him. Voldemort smirked.
"Don't be a fool, Potter," he said. "Better to save yourself and your friends by joining me, or you'll meet the same sticky end as your precious parents. They died begging me for mercy."
"You liar!" Harry declared, finally finding his voice.
"Monster!" Atemu shouted, as Harry went to make a break for it again. "Leave Harry alone!"
"Seize him!"
Quirrell spun around and lunged for Harry, grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt, tossing him back to where the mirror once stood. Before the shorter boy could do anything, Quirrell had jumped on top of Harry and had his hands around his neck, choking the life out of him.
"Harry!" Atemu shouted, struggling to get to his feet so he could help his friend, but he need not to have done so. Quirrell let out a cry of pain, pulling his hands away from Harry's neck. They were blistering and red, as if he had stuck them into a fire.
"It burns!" he shouted. "Master, his skin is like fire!"
"Then kill him and be done with it!" Voldemort shouted back.
Quirrell opened his mouth to cast a powerful hex on the young wizard, when Harry suddenly lunged upward and grabbed a hold of his face. The professor's whole face started burning at the touch, and even Voldemort screamed in pain. Harry held on, scar screaming in blinding pain as Voldemort screamed, not letting go until it became unbearable. He fell back, passing out as Quirrell backed away from him, his body burning away until the only thing that was left was his robes and the formless spirit of the dark wizard.
Atemu hurried over to Harry, checking to see if he was all right as the spirit soared up toward the ceiling, letting out a hissing moan of rage, before swinging around…
Bakura's eyes widened in terror… "ATEMU!"
Atemu turned around in surprise… barely having any time to react as Voldemort's spirit to slip inside the Millennium Puzzle. He let out a cry of surprise and pain, bending over and holding his stomach like he was going to be sick. The Puzzle flashed erratically, clearly trying to protect its owner from the vastly dangerous spirit… but even from where he was, Bakura could see that it was actually too much for it… He could only watch as it started blinking faster… stress cracks starting to appear in the pieces…
No…!
Voldemort emerged from Atemu's back as, with a deafening SNAP, the Puzzle shattered into thousands of pieces, the dust and fragments slowly drifting to the ground like golden tears…
A moment later, a solid Yuugi felt to his knees, face screwed up in pain, before falling over unconscious… and leaving a nearly transparent Atemu barely standing. The spirit stumbled back, looking like he was in agony… horrible, horrible agony… before he finally fell back onto the floor, twitching as he faded in and out, before finally stilling…
Bakura did not even realized he screamed until he stopped, his chest aching, a tear unrealized running down his cheek. No… no… gods, no! Why! Why did they torture him like this? Why did they delight in tormenting him!
"Bastard…!" he snarled at Voldemort swirled up into the air, hovering about like a vulture. The tomb robber hurried over to where some glass from the mirror littered the floor; the Ring had the power to place a part or all of a soul in another object. He was going to give that monster what he deserved…
"You Ra-be-damned coward! Come down here and face me like a man!"
Voldemort laughed at him, as if he were too happy to grant that request. He swung down from the ceiling so fast that even the tomb robber had to dodge out of the way, and then he just barely made it. Bakura jumped back to his feet, taunting Voldemort again, calling on the Ring's power…
…nothing… again…!
"Shit…!" he muttered, ducking out of the way again. Now what was he supposed to do…?
-.oOOo.-
Darkness… nothing but total and complete darkness… By all means, after surviving three thousand years in it, he should have been used to the dark… but this… this darkness was different. He was alone, floating in the dark… a darkness that was infinite… everlasting… silent… and final.
I'm going to die…
Were it before he had started attending Hogwarts, Atemu would have welcomed that thought… Now, however, it filled him with dread. He did not want it… he did not want to leave what he had. He cherished it, wanted to hold onto it as long as he possibly could. It was his… his life… his friends… his feelings… The people waiting for him in death would probably scold him for wanting to cling to such things… hell, his previous self as pharaoh would be insulted by it…
So, what had changed…?
"I dunno, maybe so you can have your own life! You know, it's only a matter of time before that runt doesn't need you any more, before you start becoming a burden to him. And then what are you going to do? What am…"
Bakura… Bakura's words from that time… he thought he had been angry at him… but…
"What am I going to do…?"
Words unsaid… words that wanted to be said, but could not…
Bakura… Atemu thought… said… whatever passed for speech in this place. I want to live… I want to live…!
Why?
Atemu paused at the new voice, frowning as he tried to find the owner in the darkness, though he could not move much as he hung limply in nothingness.
Why do you wish to live? You are meant to die.
The pharaoh curled a hand into a fist. But I've been alive for so long. I want to live still.
If you've lived for so long, is it not time for you to rest? the voice replied.
I've lived… but I haven't really lived, Atemu replied. My life… I sacrificed myself to stop evil, because I thought my life was less important than the lives of my people. I didn't… I didn't realize that I had so much to loose…
The voice was relentless. But in loosing that, you gained more. What is to say that death will not bring you even more?
Atemu blinked slowly, a tear slipping from an eye. Because… what I have now is too precious to loose… I have Yuugi… and Harry, and everyone… and Bakura… Bakura… I can't afford to leave that behind… I can't afford to die on them… I don't care what possibilities I might gain this time…
What you have is too precious…
Yes.
The voice was silent for a long time, and Atemu was beginning to think it had left… when he felt warmth in his chest, similar to what he felt before… He clasped his hands over it, closing his eyes as the feeling overwhelmed him, filling him with peace…
Humans… you are such frail creatures… letting your emotions and your hearts guide you through life… And yet, you also manage to achieve small miracles this way. Humans like yourself especially… ones that have faith in others, and give that faith and strength to those around you. It is a small wonder why we call you our son…
Atemu frowned slightly at that, slowly opening his eyes again. The warmth in his chest had turned to light, illuminating the black underbelly he was lying on… and the serpentine, double-mouthed face looming above him…
Osiris… he murmured, awed.
The dragon nodded. You are brave, our child… You have suffered much, yet you want to continue, even if it will bring you more pain. You've learned that sacrifice is not always the right choice, even if it will bring an end to evil. Learn from that… grow even stronger than you are now…
-.oOOo.-
Slowly, a tentative breath… then a soft gasp as air filled lungs again… Slowly, painfully, eyes opened, blinking slowly in an effort to fight back dizziness… Then, feeling; the stone at his back, a bit of a weight on his chest…
Atemu looked down once he managed to get the room to stop spinning. There was the Millennium Puzzle on his chest… but it was split neatly in half, a part of the Eye on it sticking out slightly before that too was cut off. He frowned, moving his head painfully, to see the other half a bit of a distance away… near…
His eyes widened… it… it could not be…
A cry of pain brought his thoughts back to the present; that was Bakura that cried out… Voldemort still must be around…
Shakily, he rolled over onto his side, spotting Bakura where he had fallen on the ground, struggling to get back to his feet. Voldemort was trying to wear him down… trying to make him weaker…
He wanted another host…
Atemu was not going to allow that.
Painfully, he got to his feet, trying to ignore the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him and send him back into darkness…
"Voldemort! You're not finished with me yet!"
The spirit of the dark wizard hissed at the sudden interruption, slithering up into the air again, hovering above Atemu as Bakura turned, feeling his heart soar. Atemu… Atemu was alive… he was okay… but… the Puzzle…? He was only wearing half of it? He frowned at that, looking around for the other half… before spotting it on the ground…
…next to Yuugi's outstretched hand.
Bakura's eyes widened in shock, while Atemu kept his eyes above, watching Voldemort like a hawk. He focused on his power as he waited for the dark wizard to make his move, feeling it come to him so much easier than it did when he shared a body with his other half. It was natural, so natural… like breathing…
The spirit suddenly dived, and Atemu calmly closed his eyes, raising a hand…
"MIND CRUSH!"
Colors seemed to invert for a moment as the Puzzle's power to drive away evil hit Voldemort dead on. The wizard screamed in agonizing pain, like it was being ripped apart bit by bit…
By the time color in the room returned to normal, the dark wizard was just a wispy bit of darkness, slowly fading… fading… fading… until there was nothing left, like the spirit had not even existed in the first place. Atemu let out a sigh of relief… before falling to his knees, still not feeling well and not exhausted on top of it. Bakura was by his side a moment later, bracing him gently.
"Shh… it's okay, pharaoh… you're okay…" he murmured. Atemu smiled softly, resting against him heavily.
"Harry…?"
"He'll be all right," Bakura replied. "He's just unconscious."
"Yuugi…?"
Bakura looked up, still unable to believe that they were separate…
"The same," he answered finally.
Atemu sighed softly. "Good…" he murmured, drifting back into unconsciousness.
Bakura stared down at him for a long moment, still not believing it. He ran a hand through the pharaoh's hair, touched his face, and pressed a hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. There was no denying it…
"Gods…" he murmured as the door behind him opened, admitting Professor Dumbledore, with their friends trailing behind him, "thank you… thank you so much…"