A matt of black hair glimmered with silver streaks under the pale light of the moon, each messy strand standing in one different direction. The skin below such untidy mop of black hair was pale like a ghost's skin. A tired, exhausted smile, however gentle and friendly like the most, and utmost excited at the vision, was written with bright luminous ink on his lips. His eyes were glimmering like the most brilliant of the jewels, igniting with an inner fire, shinning the familiar, bright green inherited from his mother.
"Harry…" gasped Ron through ragged breaths, his voice suddenly vanished from his throat. "it was you all along!" he told himself in a whisper.
"Harry, how did you…? Where were you all this time? What happened?" Hermione's voice flowed with her curiosity, and her eyes landed startled on the figure.
"Guys, I've also missed you too, but I don't think this is the place to begin my story, how about a cosy common room inside the castle?" Harry pointed at the window where a faint, yellowish glow signalled the presence of a fire crackling inside the chimney.
"All right, but I think we should take care of this first!" Ron pointed with hesitant eyes at the mass of coagulated blood now oozing a whitish, infectious liquid.
"Of course, and don't worry Ron, you won't have anything contagious!" Harry explained calmly, "the spirit is a hard bone to gnaw, but it has possessed a mortal body, and the wounds can as much as get infected like yours!" he finished aiding his red headed friend onto a standing position.
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The war was being chaotic, the upturn of events was being exaggerated, and evil seemed to be conquering the last provinces of light left in the world. Muggles had been killed indiscriminatedly, only because they were muggles. Wizards belonging to the side of the Phoenix, to Dumbledore's side were also being murdered cruelly. The sadistic Death Eaters had confronted Sirius and Remus to a death fight, animagi against a crazed werewolf, wild under the full moon's effect. George had been killed cruelly when he bravely stood before Ginny, receiving the impact of Avada Kedavra instead of his sister, to whom it was aimed. Charlie had turned the outcome for brief moments when he arrived with a whole flock of dragons. The bravest students were being killed, murdered in dark alleys or killed with pride during battle.
Harry raced across a book, hidden cowardly inside the castle's library, but who would prove to be braver than anyone. He couldn't understand why there was no way of killing Voldemort, why all the curses aimed at him did as much as to scratch his skin annoyingly. There had to be something here, in Dark Myths and How To Fight Them, one of those shrieking books sleeping calmly in the hidden section.
"Maybe this could be it!" Harry gasped excitedly, wincing slightly at his loud voice and expecting to receive a shooing warning from Madame Pince.
That would never happen again. She was gone, probably laying in a pool of her own blood like the rest, or cruelly slain by one of the beasts working for Voldemort.
"Vampire King.
A Vampire King is not exactly a vampire, but one demonic creature who reigns darkness. Able to hide in the shape of humans, this monsters can hide within magical population. However the younger ones will always look like humans, the older specimens become paler, their eyes become redder or black depending on the subject, and they become more bony and skinnier."
Harry skipped the parts about breeding and mating, and glanced only briefly at the fact that this creatures lived in the Realm of Darkness, a sub world under the very world of magick.
"The only way of killing a Vampire King is by the bite of a lycanthrope." Harry read utmost interested in such fact.
The boy's eyes darted across the sentence, reading it until its exact grammar was embroidered deep into his brain. A lycanthrope was the only way of killing Voldemort, if his assumptions were right and he was a Vampire King, which he most probably was. No wonder that Voldemort had recruited the world's werewolves, all except the few that remained on the good side. Here in England he knew only one, but he was not willing to risk another life, he wanted Voldemort for himself.
Harry glanced at the sky, it was full moon, and he knew just where his werewolf would be. Leaving the castle in a sprint, Harry penetrated the Forbidden Forest, and ran howling from time to time to call the only werewolf that was currently living in this area. The boy smiled pleasantly as a wolf appeared before him, his silvery blond fur glimmered like moonlight under the very rays of his mistress. Steel eyes glanced at him curiously, and a whimper escaped the lips inquiringly.
"Bite me!" ordered Harry severely, staring at the wolf with courage.
The poor animal simply shook his head, whimpering and lowering his ears in what Harry interpreted as a negative.
"Bite me you filthy pure blooded scum!" gasped Harry enraged, presenting his arm as a tempting platter.
The boy saw the animal snarl lightly, having caught the meaning of his words, but his whimper echoed once again as he also caught the intention of those daggers. Harry, frustrated at the lack of cooperation of the werewolf, pounced on him and tackled the animal to the ground. Opening the mouth of the beast once it was trapped against the ground, Harry placed his arm into the mouth and pressed against the fangs, such that he felt warm blood pouring out of the gashes, and the virus of lycanthrope entering his body. He felt sorry for the werewolf, for he could have never looked as miserable as he did now, his icy blue eyes glancing sadly at the boy. Harry just left, leaving the werewolf laying on his depression, a terrible, guilty feeling tearing him inside.
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Harry was standing before the monster who had mercilessly killed his parents, his friends, and unprotected muggles. He glared at him, but a knowing smirk was present on his lips, revealing the tips of a pair of fangs that were to grow in brief minutes. He stood bravely, facing the strongest, dark wizard of all times, his ace below his sleeve, a very good one indeed that will assure his victory.
"You fool, I have killed many stronger wizards than you, what makes you think I wont kill you either?" Voldemort sneered with a snake like hiss.
"Hope is the last thing to loose!" Harry said with such a tranquil, calm voice it angered the Vampire King.
"As you wish, I will kill you like I killed your father and mother!" Voldemort sneered again, smiling cruelly, almost viciously.
"Don't worry!" Harry began, seeing the rays of moonlight gleaming and beginning to caress his body, "I will kill you like I never did before, so you stay dead for once and forever!" the boy finished with a pained yelp as the effects of the transformation began.
It was over as soon as it started, his will to become a werewolf speeding up the transformation instead of fighting against it. The enormous black werewolf growled viciously, threateningly. He smiled to himself, seeing Voldemort tremble with fear for the first time in his life, such a pleasant enjoyment. The vampire attempted to throw a killing curse at Harry, his hand shaking so much due to the terror that swarmed within himself that the shot missed by a considerable distance. Harry, not wanting to risk his moment of glory, pounced forward and sank his fangs on the monster's shoulder, injecting the deadly virus in his blood. The boy also got his revenge by slashing and tearing the dying body, making Voldemort know the suffering he had been put through throughout all of this years lacking loving parents, living in the house of his cruel relatives, and being bullied by his cousin.
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"I saw fear in his eyes when he was dying, torn and bleeding, and still he would die due to the venom of my bite!" Harry explained brightly, "It was the most delightful moment of my life, seeing the most feared wizard of all times frightened under my claw!" Harry licked his lips, remembering the way he had felt when Voldemort had been almost begging.
"What did you do after?" Hermione inquired staring at the boy with a startled gaze, not expecting such story.
"I felt great, but my existence had caused so much pain that I decided to vanish, just like my scar, let everyone think the Dark Lord and I had both perished in the battle!" Harry explained calmly, looking down almost shamefully, and glancing up again, pleading understanding.
"So you've just been hiding all of this time?" inquired Ron passing a hand over the bandage that covered the stitches and the stinging wound.
"Getting used to my wolf self mainly, and you, did you find out what exactly are you?" inquired Harry glancing at the boy curiously, remembering a few weeks ago how the boy had been devastated.
"Uh, it's kind of a long story, you know?" Ron said with a slight grin, trying to evade the factors about his collapse, his doubts and his embarrassing moments, like forgetting how to land on a broom.
"Don't worry Ron, we have all night, tomorrow is Sunday. I also want to hear it!" urged Hermione with a bright, knowing grin illuminating her features.
"Hermione, you are so going to pay for this!" Ron warned through gritted teeth, smiling such that his fangs became visible.
"Oh, don't you try to threaten me with wolf fangs, Ron!" laughed Hermione, throwing Ron a cushion embroidered with the Gryffindor lion, which he easily avoided, hitting it and sending it flying into another direction.
"Well, it all began…!" Ron's voice began the story, swallowing various times to go through some of the embarrassing details, but which had to be told, or were simply worth it.
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The stormy clouds that had been sparkling, illuminating the battlefield with the electric glimmer of rays, began to dissipate. A screech like none had ever heard sent uncomfortable goosebumps crawling through the back spine of the combatants. Everyone stopped, Death Eaters and Phoenix alike, and all eyes were raised to the sky, the flaring gaps that began to appear, flaming chimneys that hid the comforting warmth of a terrible blizzard night. Rays of sun light penetrated through the thick, murky curtain, tearing it gloriously as it was only the representation of a terrible apocalipsis.
The eyes of the dedicated fighters directed towards the ground, towards the very first spot that had been illuminated. Nothing, only the ragged remains of a slimy black cloak, and the torn pieces of a golden and crimson uniform. This last one had been wore proudly, and Godric Gryffindor would not had felt better had it been himself inside such cloths. That was all left from the two opponents, that had fought bravely, and had both perished in a deathly hug. Or so people thought, and a minute of silence, for respect, or simply because of the shock, was maintained.
"Voldemort is dead!" ventured a voice, Neville's voice, which broke the silence stating the obvious.
"He is!" affirmed someone from the side of the Death Eaters, such was this shrilly, fear stained scream.
The Phoenix, filled with a renewed courage, pounced against the frightened Death Eaters, wands high and throwing all sort of curses, until no Death Eater was standing. Then it came to check on those belonging to the side of light, those that never stood up. This was a terrible task, for you had to check on friends, familiars, lovers, and see if their fallen bodies still held the breath of life. Unfortunately, few did. George was dead much to Hermione's dismay, Harry was nowhere to be seen, Bill and Fleur had been slain by werewolves, and the only ones that were still alive from the Weasleys were Ron, Ginny, Fred and Charlie. And it was then, counting the clean and polished new graves, that the survivors repaired on how high were the losses, and how few of them remaint. And it was after the burial that the army of the Phoenix dissipated like mist, seeking their own future away from the chaos that had changed their lives and spirits.
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Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore, and the always good willed Rubeus Hagrid, ran down the crumbled ruins of the Ministry of Magic. They were in a hurry, apparently, and their looks couldn't have been worse. Covered in fresh blood, some of which was their own, most of which belonged to killed enemies, their clothes were torn, dusty and damp. Minerva limped from a leg, and Hagrid's left hand was a bloody pulp, his face a picture for tears covered it like a sparkling film.
"Is this necessary Albus?" inquired the elder woman through ragged breaths.
"It is Minerva, it's the only way to avoid such horror appearing again!" Albus answered, his face was very pale, but his eyes flared with determination.
"But Albus, we will loose our magic if we destroy the fountain!" the woman pleaded, apparently unable to conceive a life without magic.
"Yes, we will, but our younger generations will not." Explained the man smiling, their presence before the Room of Mysteries becoming unnoticed.
"What do you mean? Aren't we going to destroy the fountain that grants us our power?" inquired Hagrid, participating into the conversation with a shaky voice.
"Yes, but we are not destroying magick, we are only killing the source of our magic, the one thing that boosts our powers." Dumbledore commented, entering into the circular room. The wall with the doors didn't move, the mechanism had been destroyed during the first fight into the ministry. "Before we enter, you will solemnly swear!" the man obliged severely.
"What is it?" Minerva asked swallowing, her voice weak.
"You will solemnly swear to live like muggles. Magic is a thing of myths, of the past, and no trace of it will be left. The horror we have experienced shall never be repeated." Explained the man, obtaining satisfactorily a nod agreement from the two sorcerers.
Then, made such vow, the trio penetrated through one of the doors, into the next chamber, the one so secret and so secure that, once, the door had been invisible. This was the Chamber of the Fountain, and that which delivered magic was situated in there. Unfortunately, if had to be destroyed.
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Hermione glance through the window of her room at the vast esplanade that expanded it green wings through the castle grounds. Trotting lightly, mounting on a gentle white horse called Pegasso, was Ron. He was smiling, laughing so cheerfully, wincing from time to time, but still swollen with happiness. The boy was dressed in a white shirt and a pair of tan pants, nothing else to hide the traits that had once made him feel so ashamed. Following Ron was Harry, trying to maintain his body steady on the nervous back of Valiente, the Spaniard andalusian stallion, with great strength and spirits. He too was laughing and smiling, as friends reunited like in the old times.
The woman smiled to herself, feeling her very trait of joy igniting a spark in her heart. But the revelation about that murderous spirit was still present in her mind, the conversation with the sneaky Dumbledore was fresh and repeating over and over. The spirit was the materialization of the muggle desire to eradicate magic, and only that can destroy it.
"But magic is gone!" moaned Hermione with desperation.
"Is it really?" said a misty voice behind her.
"Hi Luna." Hermione didn't even turn around to salute the girl.
"You know? My father used to say there were two kinds of magic." Luna commented pacing until she was next to the older girl.
"Wow, tell me something new for a change!" Hermione didn't want to sound so rough, but her world had already died, and it was dying again because of old prejudice, so she felt frustrated and nervous.
"I'm not speaking about Wizard magic and magic tricks, I'm speaking about magic and magick!" Luna explained so proudly and knowingly she almost seemed to think she had said something important.
"What?" Hermione turned to look at her, her eyes were wide with disbelief, but it wasn't one of revelation but one of confusion. Had she heard correct? Or had Luna just said something completely stupid and incoherent.
"Hermione, I'm not too smart, and my father's reputation was not the best, I know all that." Luna didn't turn to gaze at the girl, but her dreaming voice sounded so feeble, so sad Hermione felt sympathy for the youngster. "I do know what I said sounded strange, but the difference is in the way to summon one and the other, the magick I'm speaking about resides in all the living beings, or so my father told me. I believed that was true because all magical creatures can use it and don't use wands, or mutter spells, or anything!" she finished, taking a deep breath.
"Luna…" Hermione was amazed at the words this woman, so mysterious and so intelligent all the same, the truth she perceived in them gave her an idea, "Thank you Luna!" she said smiling so gently, so understanding, although Luna still hadn't stared at her one single time, eyes fixed so dreamily on the two figures riding below.
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How stupid can she had been? Runes, she had studied runes, and a sentence came into her mind. "Runes are thought to have been used by ancient civilizations to summon elemental magick" magick with K, it was not the kind of powers her kind knew, but one deeper, more profound, and older than time, before even the existence of the fountain. There was only one place where she would find information about that kind of magick, and that was her beloved library.
So that was her path, racing with accelerated paces, she felt more alive than ever, her nostalgia flooding with the expectation of investigating once again. Unknown, silver eyes followed her steps from the depths of a shadow, crouching behind one of the dusty, old statues.
AN: Sorry for the delay, but I've been very busy. I think this is working pretty good, don't you? I don't know if you are catching the drift of where this is going, but there is not much left already, just a couple of revelations and the very end. Maybe three or four chapters more. Well,please, read and review.