A/N: Thank you to HBP for Betaing this chapter.
:CHAPTER 2:
Of Labyrinths and Destiny
A twisting of the doorknob aroused Harry from his trance-like stupor. He realized he must have fallen asleep at some point, though he had no idea just how long he had been indisposed. Time itself had vanished in this windowless waiting room. With eyes burning from exhaustion, he watched as the door opened, a willowy figure revealed in its wake. All thoughts of tiredness disappeared as he registered that this could be the one that would lead him to his destination. The figure stepped forward, and the light swept over her body, revealing her as a woman with long, flowing limbs and graceful curves. As her face came into view, he was surprised to see that her features provided a stark contrast to the rest of her. They were sharp and strong - too finely chiseled to be beautiful, but alluring all the same.
The witch glanced around the dim, bare chamber that served as a waiting room. When her eyes met his, he gazed stonily back. She broke contact first, though he could feel her piercing glare taking in his wan appearance, shaggy hair, and the rough stubble upon his jaw line. He was increasingly aware of his questionable looks. Without thinking, he reached to flatten his hair on the back of his head.
"Harry Potter?" she said, in a tone as calculating as her gaze.
He nodded once in affirmation and stood, unnerved even more by her silent appraisal. He had met terrifying creatures in his days, but there was something about this woman that was just as intimidating as any of them. The witch's mouth twitched into a frown and then she turned, her pale robes sweeping around her limbs. She fluttered a fair-skinned hand behind her – a gesture for him to follow, he assumed – and after stealing himself, he stepped after her, uncertain of what lay behind the door.
They were in another chamber, roughly the same size as the first, but of a completely different nature. It pulsed with an odd green light, which seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. Harry glanced toward the ceiling, and his eyes widened in awe. There was not a ceiling at all, but a tapestry of woven vines. He recognized this as the source of the green glow. As he gazed at the strange tapestry longer, Harry realized the weaving depicted a scene of some sort, and squinted, trying to make it out. A tapping of a foot startled him from his daze, and he tore his eyes from the wondrous display to find the witch regarding him with interest.
"It's an ancient work," she said.
"It's beautiful." He meant it, too.
"The room chooses how it presents itself according to the guest who enters. It's… interesting it chose this form for you."
"Why?" Harry was used to things being "interesting" for him. After years of such happenings, he had learned that it was best to find out all he could about them. "Is it important?"
There was a pregnant pause, and the witch was clearly trying to decide how much to tell this male stranger. His curiosity almost led him to press her, but one look at those sharp cheekbones convinced him to do otherwise.
"Long ago," she began in an expressionless voice, "a sorceress came to us; one whose botanical skills ascended all others. She created this tapestry from living vines, vines which live and grow still today." Even as Harry watched, they twisted and weaved within themselves. It gave the impression that the characters in the tapestry were actually moving. It was a surreal, almost dizzying movement, though, and quite unlike the wizarding paintings he was used to.
"It is widely agreed that the tapestry is beautiful," she continued, "but not many can see the picture depicted in its weavings. From the look upon your face, it does not seem that this is the case for you."
He nodded, noting how in one part of the tapestry the different combinations of vines and leaves created the ranks of many mystical creatures intertwined in battle. There also looked to be humans fighting in their midst. Strangely so, there was something vaguely familiar about a few of them. As he stared at them, he felt strength and courage flowing back into him. The energy seemed to be flowing from one character in particular, made up of a complex weaving of leaves and pale vines. He thought it was a man, but he couldn't be sure. He smiled briefly and the leave-cloaked character pulsed in response.
As his neck began to ache from the position it had taken, his eyes fell onto yet another part of the tapestry. Thousands of symbols were set in different intricate patterns. He stood on his tiptoes to look closer, but his investigation was cut short by the witch clearing her throat.
"We should be moving on."
"Is it like this room?" He pressed, not seeming to hear her. "Does it show a different scene for everyone?" He had this nagging feeling that there was something very important about that tapestry that he should know.
"Not exactly," she said with a tone of finality.
"Is it –"
"There is a reason you came to us this day, is there not?" Her voice had reached a level shrill enough to rival Hermione's.
"Of course," he gulped. Harry Potter knew better than to argue with that tone, though he knew without a doubt that he would eventually have to return to the tapestry.
"Then we shall proceed." The witch tapped her wand against the wall, which was not really wall at all but branchless trees pushed together very tightly. A door appeared where her wand tip had touched. He made as if to step through, but she thrust her wand up across his neck.
Well that's polite, he thought, annoyed. A simple 'stop' would have worked quite well.
"From this point, until we reach our destination," she told him in a once-again calm voice, though it held a note of daring, "do not speak. Do not make any sound. If you could refrain from letting your feet fall too loudly as well, please do so." He stared at her.
"Understood?"
Harry merely nodded, not taking the dare. She lowered her wand.
"And do keep up; it is wise to always keep moving within these halls."
She bustled through the doorway, Harry just behind her. Wary of her words, he kept at her heels as she proceeded briskly down a twisting, narrow, but very tall passageway. In fact, he noticed that it seemed to have no ceiling at all. The stone walls just extended upwards for what seemed like forever. It made him feel very small and rather dizzy, so he looked forward instead.
The passageway did not seem to end in that direction either. They traveled up and down stairwells, went around sharp corners, and followed bends that were so rounded he felt they would never finish circling. They met several intersections, and always turned down a different direction than the last. He was under the impression that a couple of times they retraced their footsteps, though there were no distinct landmarks so he could not be sure. They never met any others. They never slowed their pace.
They traveled this way for some time, and the silence that bore down on him was velvety and oppressive. It was unnerving. Harry wondered briefly if this was one of the tests he had been warned of, but dismissed the thought as readily as it popped into his head. Whatever lay at the end of this labyrinth was what truly mattered. He went over his plan in his head, vividly remembering Hermione's cautionary tales. The real test was still to come. Thinking of what lay ahead only ended up aiding his piquing nerves, so Harry put that out of his mind too and instead studied the witch who led him so fiercely.
Her chestnut hair was drawn into coils that wrapped around the back of her head. As his eyes tried to sort out where the coils ended and began, he found himself thinking of the tapestry. It had been so intricate, so powerful. When Harry tried to fixate his mind on its details though, he felt as if he had been hurled into a giant storm of oblivion. He couldn't remember a blasted thing! It was an unnatural feeling to not remember what he had seen so vividly; even in the magical world. More than ever, he wanted to return and study it. Perhaps when this was all over, they would allow him to do so. He could not rid himself of the feeling that it carried something of great importance in its living threads.
For the remainder of the journey, Harry fixated his thoughts on the witch's robes. They were a pale cream color and billowed as she walked, reminding him of ship's sails. Even from a few paces back he could tell they were of the finest quality wizard gold could buy. He had not seen a crest on the front of the robe, but as he looked now he saw a marking over her right shoulder blade: a deadly looking curved sword and a just as deadly looking claw crossed over a wand. It was nothing like Harry had seen before, but this did not surprise him in the least; everything here was unusual in some way or another.
He pondered what it meant, though. He pondered what it all meant.
At last, their pace slowed and they paused at a door that was nondescript in all but its keyhole. The object in question was in the shape of a charging she-griffin, set in a bronze plate. Harry's silent guide motioned for him to step back. After he had given her a wide enough girth, she raised her wand and murmured an inaudible spell. From her wand, came the whispery shape of a Unicorn. Harry watched, fascinated despite himself, as the patronus-like Unicorn melded itself horn-first into the bronze of the plate and knelt in submission in front of the griffin. The griffin nodded its head, and the door opened in a soft click.
"So," a musical voice said as Harry stepped through the threshold, "Harry Potter has come to us at last."
Harry's eyes took in the chamber as he entered, and was confronted with such exquisiteness that he felt his apprehension dissipating into awe. As his gaze fell upon the speaker, though, the room seemed to fade away into nothingness. Again, he became quite aware of his thumping heart. He knelt, but bowed his head only slightly as to keep his eyes trained on the being before him.
"Tell us, male-child," she said in the same hypnotic voice that had greeted him, "what brings you so far from the place you call home?"
"You know perfectly well why I'm here," Harry replied, maintaining a certain level of respect in his voice, despite his words. It was incredibly important that he did not show weakness. "I seek your help."
A/N: This chapter has gone through 1563634 revisions since I first wrote it, and I'm proud of this final version. To think that the story I have planned for you all stemmed from the first paragraph of this chapter... giggles madly
Ooo, so I'm having tremendous fun! I hope you all are as well.
Special thanks to Fantasium and Aequitas for their especially wonderful and helpful reviews.
Also, I have a new batch of freshly baked cookies. To anyone who can guess correctly who made the tapestry gets one. :)