Harry Potter and the Curse of V'Ardian
Chapter 17
Of Malfoy and Ministers
Standard Disclaimers Apply
oOoOo
With the weekend came the greatest scandal of the year. Garian Numair, the minister who had been leading the wizarding community of Britain since Fudge's resignation, had been murdered by vampires, mauled in his sleep.
The act sent a shockwave through the government, with potential ministers calling for heavier 'half-breed' legislation in order to win votes. On Saturday morning as Harry sat down and enjoyed his first meal in a long time, the most surprising news of all came in the form of an owl addressed to Ron Weasley.
Ron and Hermione sat across from each other with Harry seated next to Hermione and they were eating in silence when the large black owl landed in the middle of the table. It waddled pompously over to Ron and stretched its leg out, eyes rolled skyward in dignified disapproval. Ron gave it a scowl, having been disconnected from his bowl of bacon and hash browns and removed the tightly furled scroll.
The owl took off in a rush of feathers and Ron unrolled the letter. As he read his mouth dropped open.
"Blimey," he whispered in a hushed tone.
"What is it?" asked Hermione, looking up from her book.
"Bloody hell…" Ron muttered, his eyes whizzing through the letter again.
"What is it?" asked Hermione again, and this time Harry looked up, interested.
"Dad- he's running for Minister…" Ron said, awed.
Hermione's mouth dropped open in a silent 'oh'.
"Wow," said Harry, truly surprised, and he wondered if Mr Wealey was running because of the Order. Hermione echoed his thoughts.
"Well he'll be doing it for," she lowered her voice, glancing conspiratorially around, "you know, the Order. I bet Dumbledore will announce he's backing your Dad to help get him in. Merlin knows we need a decent Minister, someone who's in alliance with the order and isn't full of this half-breed nonsense."
Harry nodded, but Ron still looked gob smacked.
"I don't believe it," he said, and began talking about all of Mr Weasley's Muggle exploits.
Harry would have stuck around for the reminiscing, but excused himself- after all, he had business to attend to. The staff and globe lay securely in his pocket, shrunk down to ideal carrying size. He hurried out of the Great Hall and into the Entrance Hall, heading for the front doors. He was just about to open the door when a hand grabbed him from a shadowy corner and pulled him into a hidden corridor.
"Malfoy," said Harry coldly.
"Potter. I have information for you."
"It better be more useful than your last information," Harry spat.
"Shut it, Potter," sneered Malfoy. "You killed my Aunt, I don't need to be doing this at all."
"You're just trying to save your own skin, Malfoy. If he offered you a better deal you wouldn't be doing this. For all I know you could be feeding me whatever he wants you to."
"Do you want to hear what I have to say?" Malfoy asked impatiently.
"Yes," Harry reluctantly agreed.
"The Dark Lord is planning something at Hogwarts. I don't know the exact date, but it's going to happen soon."
Harry gave an impatient sigh.
"Damn it, Malfoy, can you not give me any valuable information?"
Malfoy's sneer deepened.
"Do you know how much I am risking?" he hissed, glaring at Harry. "Do you know what my father would do if he found out what I was doing?"
"Whatever, Malfoy. I have to go."
Without waiting for a reply, Harry turned and left the castle, summoning his Firebolt. He came to a rest minutes later beneth the large wall of rock, looking with some trepidation at the entrance. He had no idea what was beyond the wall, and knew only that this staff was the key. Squaring his shoulders, he lowered the end of the staff into the hollow in the wall. The crystal globe glowed faintly blue from within a split second before the rock face dissolved away, leaving a stone arch before him.
Stepping through it, Harry found himself in a new world.
This, Harry thought, was what paradise was. Every tree, ever bush, was dotted with bright flowers, the river meandering beneath the sweeping branches. A beautiful bird of a species Harry had never seen before floated regally above the crystal clear water, its bright plumage hailing the sun. In front of Harry a dirt path disappeared out of sight between the trees, and birds chirped in pleasant song. The whole scene exuded a sense of peace, calmness and serenity that Harry had never felt before.
Feeling decidedly more confident, Harry set off along the path, heedless of the possibility that he was heading into danger. How could anything bad happen in this wonderful place? The base of the staff thumped into the ground with a muffled noise with every step he took, and the rhythm was pleasing. Harry was now following the path through a grove of trees, the shadowy wonderland hidden from above by a roof of leaves, thin shafts of sunlight snatching through the branches here and there.
And then suddenly he saw an amazing sight. Through a parting in the trees was a cliff. Coming to a stop on the edge of it he looked out over a huge valley, the river running straight through the middle of it. There, on the opposite side next to the thundering waterfall, was the most beautiful castle Harry had ever seen. It was not made out of dull, grey rock as Hogwarts was, but marble or limestone which seemed to shine with an inner light of its own. Staring in awe at the breath-taking structure, Harry felt mist from the waterfall float over him in a cooling spray. Ivy trailed over the roof and walls of what would more accurately be described as a palace, and Harry then noticed many smaller dwellings running down the cliff face. Tearing his eyes away from the magnificent sight, Harry noticed a rope bridge hanging across the wide open space.
He hurried over to it and took a careful step out, testing the strength. It seemed fine and without further hesitation he continued across. The length was daunting, and Harry felt slightly intimidated by the sheer magnitude of the area in which he was hanging, suspended only by a few pieces of rope. He hurried across the expanse of ropes and wooden planks and came to a rest on a small ledge. Breathing a sigh of relief he continued up the narrow path, his feet now crunching brittle leaves that lay on the ground.
It did not take long for him to come across something of interest- or rather, something of interest came across him.
"Halt, intruder!" came the cry of a stern voice as Harry stood looking at a strange looking plant. Harry looked up in surprise, disgruntled at the interruption of his peaceful contemplation. His eyes sought out the source of the voice, and Harry laid eyes upon the most beautiful man he had ever seen. Now, he used the term 'beautiful' loosely, however it was the first thought that came to his mind. The man was tall and willowy, and had a bow and arrow slung across his back. He obviously did not see Harry as threat, though his hand lingered subtly over a sheathed dagger on his belt.
When the man saw Harry's face however, his eyes widened slightly in shock, though he gave no outward appearance of having been caught by surprise.
"Harry Potter. How did you come by this place? None but the immortals may pass our walls."
Harry inspected the man shrewdly. He was not dressed in any special attire- he looked as though he were out hunting, though what he would hunt on this narrow ledged Harry did not know. Perhaps he had been on his way to some other place.
"Harry Potter is not my only name. To some I am known as a Lord of V'Ardian."
The man's brow furrowed in what could have been slight disgust and he shook his head. As his head moved his hair swung away from his face and Harry saw that he had pointy ears. He was obviously of Elven heritage, though Harry thought it impossible that a whole community of Elves lived in the middle of the Forbidden Forest and not even Dumbledore knew of them.
"Then you are not welcome here," said the man, causing Harry's brow to crease in reply.
"And where is here?" he asked.
"You do not know, yet you have come here anyway?" the man asked, looking at Harry curiously. "Few dare to wander in here unannounced and uninformed."
Obviously, thought Harry, but refrained from sarcasm for the time being.
"There are many things that few wizards know. I am no exception."
The man seemed pleased with his reply and nodded.
"This is the home of the Elves, Erithriel. It means 'Place of the Light'.
Harry pondered the aptness of that name.
"You know my name. May I ask yours?"
"I am known as Illirian. My house is Fairwind."
Harry inclined his head deeply.
"Might I ask whom I may speak to?"
"I shall take you to Lord Variel and Lady Ari. They will wish to speak with you."
Harry inclined his head again in gratitude before Illirian turned and began striding down the path, his paces long and fast. Harry hurried to keep up, his robes whipping around his feet.
They walked in silence, though it was not awkward. Illirian seemed completely carefree and peaceful- as one with nature. Harry wondered if all elves were like that.
After only a few minutes of walking, the two arrived at a large set of shining gates, and Harry wondered if they were solid gold. Illirian strode purposefully up to them and laid a finger upon the lock. Immediately it drew away and Illirian pushed the large gate open with apparent ease. Harry was strongly reminded of the vaults at Gringotts and shivered.
Harry was immediately admitted to the walled city and was besieged by an array of tantalising sights and smells. Beautiful music carried on the wind, its haunting melody hinting of an important yet lost message. Harry followed Illirian up what appeared to be the main street, which climbed steadily up hill. Elves stopped their work to stop and stare, and curious children followed them.
The cobbled road led them to another set of gates, intricate designs carved into them. Two guards were stationed there, and they looked stonily at Harry.
"Illirian Fairwind. You have brought a mortal into out kingdom."
"He is no mortal, Falon. I request admittance so that he may speak with our Lord Variel."
The two guards exchanged a look but stepped gruffly aside.
"Very well, Illirian. Were you not good friends with our Lord you would be handed straight to the council for this."
Harry looked between the two men, bewildered, but Illirian shot him a silencing glance. The guard opened the gate to admit the two of them and Illirian murmured to him as they passed though it.
"I am married to Falon's sister. He has never liked me."
Harry nodded in understanding. He'd encountered that particular problem before.
"This is the palace of Erith. The King of the Elves resides here with his wife. Lord Variel is my good friend, as is his wife, Ari. We grew up together."
The palace was cool and inviting, the structure grand and beautiful. Statues and sculptures adorned the halls, works of Elven art. It didn't take long for them to find the King. As Illirian had said, Variel was in his private chambers, sitting with his wife and young daughter.
"Wait here," Illirian ordered, and Harry stood in the hallway as Illirian knocked on the door and entered.
"Liri!" came a joyful voice from within, and Harry heard a chuckled as what sounded like a child ran up to the elf.
"Hello, Leya.
Illirian advanced further into the room and Harry heard him lower his voice into a more serious tone.
"Variel, I have something that needs your urgent attention."
"What is it, Liri?" came a woman's voice.
"I was out hunting along the ridge and I met a man."
Harry heard someone stand up in agitation.
"A mortal?"
"He claims he is not mortal. He is a wizard, but he is also of the lamia."
Footsteps immediately echoed towards the door and it was thrown open in front of Harry, revealing a surprisingly young-looking man with long brown hair. He frowned in confusion as Illirian came to his side. Harry bowed his head in respect.
"My Lord."
"You are Harry Potter." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes."
"Why have you come to Erithriel?" he asked, his gaze probing and unrelenting.
"I didn't know what was here. I just found the barrier and I found the way past it. In all truth I thought it might lead me to the vampire that Turned me."
"Very well. Follow me." He turned abruptly and Harry followed him into a small sitting room. The three of them, Harry, Vairel and Illirian, sat around a low table decorate with delicate inlaid gold. Variel got straight to the point.
"It has been many years since we had a visitor from the mortal world. We do not deal in their business, nor they in ours. We know who you are because the Dark Lord was as great a threat to us as he was to the wizards. We did not know that you had been Turned."
"Few do," replied Harry.
"The lamia have been our foe for many years now. During the last war they sided with the Dark One and it seems that they have chosen the same path in this time. None have entered our walls in decades."
"I am against Voldemort- my state does not change that. The one who turned me- he was of V'Ardian. Do you know where I might find him?"
Illirian raised an eyebrow and Variel seemed agitated at this news.
"Do you know the name of the one who Turned you?"
"I believe he was known as Isautier."
Variel and Illirian shared a concerned glance.
"The V'Ardian Clan is the most powerful clan in the world. They number in the tens of thousands. Isautier is their Prince."
"Merlin…" murmured Harry.
"I believe that Isautier resides in northern France somewhere- he has a chateau there. However, your best option would be to wait until the full moon. Every month the lamia gather for sacrificial rituals and worship. They go to a place called Poseidon's Reach, known to them as Darkwater. It is their meeting place."
"What do they worship?" asked Harry.
"Blood," said Illirian solemnly and bluntly. "It is their life force, just as it is our, but in an entirely different and grotesque way. Their way of life has led them to willingly embrace the Darkness and for that we cannot associate with them."
"Then why was I able to enter Erithriel?"
"All of the lamia are, they just choose not to. This is the realm of the immortals and for them, the mortal world is a much darker and rewarding place."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"And what of Voldemort. He was a danger to you in the last war, you said. Surely he will not have forgotten you?"
"No," scowled Variel, "he will not have, and if he succeeds in acquiring the alliance of the lamia we may very well find ourselves in danger again."
Suddenly Harry was struck by a thought.
"You say that this is the realm of the immortals. You must know something of immortality then. What is it that keeps Voldmort from dying?"
Variel sneered, a look that clashed horribly with his soft features.
"The Dark One is not truly immortal, just as we are not. A true immortal never dies, and there are few creatures that are. Yes, we will live far beyond the years of those in the mortal realm, but it is nothing more than a trick of time. Time travels much slower here than it does in the mortal real. A minute here might be hours in the mortal realm."
Damn, thought Harry. They might be missing him shortly.
"Voldemort though, is just as mortal as any human. His body is as susceptible to damage and aging as yours. It is his soul that refuses to leave. It is trapped in the physical realm, through contortions of magic and life, split and mangled like a broken flower. It will remain so until his soul is destroyed, piece by piece, or rejoined."
"So he's split his soul into parts?" asked Harry in disgust.
"The body is the storage place of the soul, but it can be stored in other objects. I heard a rumour, many years ago, that he split it seven times, though into what I do not know."
"Seven times," whispered Harry. "The most powerful magical number…"
Variel inclined his head in agreement.
"To my knowledge only one of these objects has been found, and of course a part of his soul resides in the body itself. The wizards call them 'Horcruxes.'"
oOoOo
They talked for some time, but eventually Variel drew the conversation to an end.
"You must leave now, Harry Potter. The people will be wondering about your presence in our home and I don't think it would do well to have anyone know of your other secrets."
"Thankyou."
The King of the Elves inclined his head.
"Do not come here again, at least until times are safer. Illirian will escort you out."
Grasping his staff, Harry stood up and bowed slightly, before turning and following Illirian out of the room.
"He's right, you know," said Illirian. He shook his head in longing. "The mortal realm used to be such a peaceful place. Now…"
"It's all I've ever known," said Harry firmly. "So I can't really agree or disagree."
Harry looked up at the clear sky.
"All I know is that this war is going to get so much worse than it is now and I'm going to be stuck in the middle of it."
"Because you are cursed by V'Ardian."
"That and many other reasons," agreed Harry.
Illirian accompanied him over the rope bridge and all the way back to the barrier.
"I hope I will see you again when times are better," said Illirian, and Harry smiled at his frank solemness. The Elves seemed so carefree yet so serious.
"Me too," smiled Harry, somewhat sadly.
They bid each other farewell and Harry retrieved his broomstick and shrunk the staff down to size, stuffing it in his pocket.
"Until next time," he hailed, and rose into the air, his mind awash with all he had learned today.
oOoOo
When Harry arrived back at Hogwarts, it was well into the evening. He hurried up to his dormitory to find everybody at dinner. With a frustrated sigh he returned the staff and his Firebolt to his chest and returned to the Entrance Hall. Dinner hadn't started long ago, so he didn't think he would be missed that much. He quietly slipped in through the doors to the Great Hall and hurried for his seat.
Up at the staff table some of the teachers were staring at him- professor McGonagall was leaning over to talk to Dumbledore urgently, who looked up at Harry with a slight frown of relief on his face. Students were looking up and stopping their conversations to stare at Harry.
He hurried to his seat and slid into his spot next to Hermione.
"Harry! Where have you been?" gasped Hermione.
"What do you mean?" asked Harry, confused. He looked at Ron, who was pale beneath his freckles.
"You've been missing since yesterday morning, Harry. Where were you?"
Harry paled. Had he really been gone that long? He looked up at the staff table to see Dumbledore staring at him, and Snape casting him a cold, calculating look.
"I- I didn't think I was gone for so long," Harry said. "I thought I only left this morning."
"And you missed the moon?" asked Hermione, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.
"I'd rather not go into it, Hermione, I'm sure I'm going to have enough trouble explaining where I was to Dumbledore. And since when did Dumbledore start coming to meals again?" Harry asked, successfully changing the subject.
Hermione shrugged.
"Last night, but he looks absolutely terrible, don't you think?"
He did thought Harry, and as he scanned the row of adults at the staff table he noticed for the first time just how ragged they all looked. Snape was as pale and sour-looking as usual, his gaze still flickering intermittently back at Harry, while Tonks looked pale and withdrawn, as she had all year. Dumbledore looked frail and old, worn out as Harry had never seen him before. Professor McGonagall's lips formed a thin straight line as she speared a carrot on her fork with exaggerated fierceness. Professor Sprout's hair was wild and frilly.
Harry wondered how he could have misjudged the time so severely.
When dinner finished, Harry took himself up to the staff table to explain his disappearance. He told a weary Dumbledore that he had been revising spells for the DA and had fallen asleep in the Room of Requirement and lost track of the time. It was a weak excuse, but it was the best he could think of at such short notice.
Tonks was staring at him beadily and Harry remembered her frosty treatment of him last time they had encountered each other.
Times certainly were strange.
oOoOo
A/N: Well, another chapter up. This was originally going to be two chapters but I thought that would be dragging it out a bit too much. This chapter was longer than normal- more the length I like them to be. My chapters in this story have turned out to be quite short and I'm not too happy with that but I find it's made it run a bit more smoothly. Thanks for reading and don't forget to review- Wujjawoo
Chapter 18: Of Contests and Capture