Chapter Fifteen.
Every time he closed his eyes he heard it.
That rattling breath that never seemed to end, he desperately tried to push the memory of it away but always it came back with a vengeance.
He could hear the two Aurors who had been tasked with guarding the door to the suite of rooms they had put him in, the Headmaster had made it clear to him that they were there purely for his protection. He knew that Harry and Draco had also been taken somewhere, and last he had seen was the cold blue eyes of his mother as she tore into the Headmaster and a man who had a mane of hair that outdid Hermione for its wild bushy tangle when she had been refused entry to see him.
Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl as he waited for some news as to what was happening outside. He had not seen or heard from anyone in hours and a part of him wondered if they had forgotten about him, he had tried several times to speak to the guards but had only been met with their silent stares.
So he was left with only the quiet of his rooms and the memory of the last breath to escape from between Marcus's lips.
It had lingered in the air like a spectre of damnation, echoing in the gloom as he remembered the terrified pleas for the pain to stop. Again and again, he heard it, until he thought he would never be free of the horror of it.
A flash of crimson eyes in the darkness that surrounded him and at last that rattling breath ended as he woke with a start. He stared about him with wild eyes and realised he must have fallen in a nightmare, now thankfully only the memory of that death rattle echoed hauntingly in the disquiet of his mind.
The candles in the sconces had burned low, so he must have slept for some time. He pulled himself into a better position as his back and neck screamed at him from where he had been slumped into the hard-backed chair he had fallen asleep in.
He gave a tired sigh as he stared at an untouched platter of food, he had been unable to stomach anything following the death of Flint. Even now his hunger was warring his guilt, eventually, his hunger won out and he began to pick at the selection of cold cuts and bread before him.
Never had he thought this would be his fate. He had only ever cared for the study of Magic, only ever sought to learn the mysteries of the Arcane.
Now he had the death of a boy only a few years older himself on his hands. Yet he had seen and heard the pained cries, begging for it to end. He had seen for himself the dying ember of the boy's Reservoir.
His mind was a sea of churning thoughts, and he desperately tried to lose himself in the calming emptiness of the Void. Yet despite his best attempts the mental state continued to slip from his grasp, it seemed almost as if the emotional pain of what he had done refused to let him hideaway and he knew that it would be a long time before he could ever rest easy.
Yet one thought nagged at him like a buzzing gnat that refused to leave him alone and his mind replayed the last words that Marcus' Flint had uttered.
He has another.
Just what did that mean, was there another like Flint in the castle? Had someone not been down in the dungeons when his grandfather and Headmaster had fought the possessed Flint and his Thirteen?
A quiet knock upon his door had him jumping from his seat, yet before he could answer the door opened to let in a small host of strangers.
He found himself retreating until his back was against the wall, he felt his heart race at the sight of so many strangers until he recognised a few familiar faces amongst the crowd. He saw the Headmaster and his Grandfather, but what drew his attention was the armoured form of his father as Belor harshly shoved his way through the crowd. Behind him followed his mother, Tyrna and Ironmane, the stinking Dwarf eyeing the crowd with a savage grin as he toyed with the handle of the knife at his belt.
His mother quickly moved to embrace him as his father asked how he was faring in the Dwarven tongue, behind the Dwarf's broad shoulders he saw a few of the Aurors exchange nervous glances as one of them stepped forward. The man was tall and had eyes that glared at the non-humans amongst their contingent and reached out to grab Belor's shoulder.
"Speak words we can all understand, Dwarf!"
Callian watched as his father turned slowly, his eyes like shards of ice and the Auror quickly backpedalled but not fast enough to avoid the swinging gauntlet that knocked him from his feet sending him and his fellows into a tumble.
"Make no mistake, Manling. Yeh ever put a hand on me again, and I will gut yeh and leave yeh to rot where yeh fall. Do I make myself clear?"
Several of the Aurors in the room had their wands in hand now, but Belor ignored them all as he continued to stare at the man he knocked down. The Auror was barely clinging to consciousness and his face had been split from lip to chin, Dwarves may be smaller in stature than humans but they were far stronger.
The Headmaster pushed his way forward until he was standing in the no man's land that appeared between them. "Be at peace My Lord Belor. None here shall raise a hand against you or yours."
Despite having given up his position as Chief Warlock, it seemed that the legend of Albus Dumbledore still held sway as the Aurors took his word as law and sheathed their wands.
Looking at Callian, the Headmaster could see the panic that shone in his eyes and he offered the boy a small encouraging smile.
"Relax Callian, the Aurors are here for your protection. They do however need to question you about the events of this morning." The Headmaster turned to stare at those gathered behind him and his voice took on a firmer quality. "Polite questions, that will not unsettle my student."
Callian could not help but stare at the Headmaster, his anger mounting until he felt ready to burst. He had been held in this room without seeing or hearing from anyone. He had all but begged the guards to see his mother and they had remained ever silent, he felt his anger begin to get the better of him and about the room a few odds and ends began to shake ominously before he got a tight control over his emotions.
The words of Arcturus floating through his mind reminding him of his position.
You are the heir to a Noble line. Act like it.
The anger he felt seemed to blaze hot in his heart, and for a moment he could forget the guilt he had been feeling as he sought to wrap his mind in the comfort of the Void. He, at last, managed it.
Standing straighter he looked at the Headmaster without the heavy burden of guilt, fear, or pain.
"I have been kept isolated for my Protection?! I have been unable to see my family. I have been unable to do anything but stare at these walls and hope that I am not carted off without ever seeing them again. Your guards have refused every question I have asked them, and now you tell me to relax?!"
The Headmaster waved him to calm as he looked on apologetically. "For that, I ask that you forgive me. But matters within the school have gotten a little out of hand, it appears that somehow word of your altercation with Mr Flint got to the Ministry before anyone here was aware of it. On top of that, there have been sightings of individuals from our missing students appearing all about the school. The Aurors arrived before we had even arrived at the hospital wing, so I deemed it prudent to place you here to keep you safe until I could sort this mess out."
Callian looked to the tangle of Aurors that were shooting daggers at his father. "How was the Ministry notified before…"
He trailed off as it came to him, but the Headmaster explained for him as he shot a sideways glance towards the Aurors.
"I believe that the Dark Wizard that had possessed Marcus Flint and seems to have control of our missing Thirteen, alerted the Ministry of the murder of a student. I believe that they intended for that student to be Master Malfoy, your intervention no doubt saved your friend's life. According to Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour," The Headmaster nodded towards the man with the wild mane of hair before continuing. "They only received an emergency alert via Floo not long before our confrontation with Mr Flint. There was no information as to who had been attacked or was the perpetrator, according to those in charge of managing the Floo Network they could not even tell who had made the call, only that it came from within Hogwarts."
Callian did not miss the slight emphasis of Dark Wizard and had to wonder why the truth was being hidden from the Ministry, but he ignored it as he processed everything the Headmaster had revealed to him. Why were the Thirteen still showing themselves? It made no sense to him, and he failed to see a pattern in Voldemort's actions.
"What about the Wizard we saw leave F…Flin-"
Callian stopped as he felt his tenuous grip of the Void waver dangerously, taking a second he submerged his mind even deeper within the dark.
He felt his mother's hand upon his shoulder yet it did little to comfort him, taking a deep breath he held it for several seconds before he continued.
"What happened to the Wizard that had possessed Flint?" His voice wavered slightly but he found himself regaining a sense of emotional balance the longer he remained buried within the calm emptiness of the Void of thought.
The Headmaster offered him a small sympathetic nod of his head, "There had been no sighting of the Shade, or any mention of Students acting oddly. For now, it just seems to be our missing students that have been making an appearance."
Callian once more remembered the last words that Marcus had uttered.
"He has another."
His words silenced the room, he watched as the Head Auror pushed his way to stand beside the Headmaster. The man's odd yellowish eyes stared at him with cold calculation, yet Callian found something lacking within the man. He radiated a sense of power but there was something brittle about it, and Callian found himself wondering just how much it would take for cracks to show in the veneer.
"What did you say, Lord Blackwood?" The man's voice held a gruffness to it, yet it was not an unpleasant thing to hear.
"The last thing he said to me was that 'He has another."
The Auror shared a worried look with the Headmaster at that, before he turned back to stare hard at Harry. "If you knew this Wizard had another compatriot within the school, why have you never said anything before now?"
Callian could only stare in amazement at the Auror, "I have not been able to speak to anyone! You've had me stuck in here for the last day, every time I tried to talk to one of your Aurors I received nothing but blank stares in return."
Belor let out a derisive snort at that. "You long'uns have always been the same. Ignore the danger until it's over, then try and look like yeh knew what yeh were doin'. Yer Ministries fabled Dark Wizard catchers, botherin' children instead of doin' yer damned jobs."
The Auror who had tried to grab Belor only moments before seemed to have regained his wits, as he shot the Dwarf a dark look while running his tongue over his split lip. "When the child in question is responsible for the death of a student, we will deal with matters as we see fit. And it is your Ministry as well, Dwarf. You obey the law as much as any other."
Belor bared his teeth at the Aurors, his blue eyes holding a dangerous glint. "My kind never signed yer damned Peace Pact yeh forced upon the other races. We have a trade alliance and that's it, Manling. Beware yer words, boy. I have fifty of my finest warriors outside that door, if yeh wish to keep pressing the matter. Now I'm tellin' yeh shut yer mouth and remain silent. Before I ugly up yer face some more."
Callian watched as the Auror drew his wand, his face twisting in anger only for the sharp, barking command of Rufus Scrimgeour to halt the man in his tracks. "That is enough Stebbins! Sheath your wand and wait for me outside." When the Auror protested, Scrimgeour pointed sharply at the door. "Outside Auror Stebbins, I will not tell you again." He growled through gritted teeth.
Once the Auror had left the room, the Head of the Auror department turned back to look at Belor with a slight frown.
"Lord Belor, I understand this is a stressful situation but I ask that you do not antagonise my men. I shall deal with Auror Stebbbins personally, his actions are unbecoming of an Auror and have cast a bad light upon this office. I apologise for the actions of my men, yet we will need to question Lord Blackwood about the events of last night."
Belor just stared hard at the man, but eventually gave a slight nod of his head in acceptance. What followed was hours of endless questions until Callian was so weary that he could not tell up from down. He had gone through an emotional rollercoaster as he retold his story, he had found himself once more unable to wrap the Void about his thoughts and could only weep as he once more heard that hauntingly rattling breath.
Once the Aurors had wrung every scrap of information they could out of his son, they were finally left alone.
Belor had begun to pace about the room midway through the questioning, feeling more and more like a trapped bear that desperately wanted to break something. There was a fire in his heart and it had been fanned to an inferno as he had watched the tears fall from Callian's eyes. Despite the tenuous peace that they had agreed to, many of the Aurors in the room had been eyeing him like a cornered Nundu. The steadily growing volume of his curses in the Dwarven tongue did little to soothe the jittery Aurors, and he felt a savage glee as he watched them flee from the room once they were finished with Callian.
He was half tempted to take his fifty warriors and chase the damned long'uns from the school.
He had long despised the so-called elite of the Ministry, they had often treated his folk poorly but he had seen first-hand their cowardice during the War. He would never trust anyone that fled rather than defend the people they had been tasked with protecting, he had led a host of shopkeepers and common folk from the Dwarven Quarter of the Alley. They had raced to save those that had been abandoned by the Aurors from the fate that awaited them at the hands of the Dark Lord and his followers. He had seen the look of terror in the eyes of children only a few years older than Callian had been, and it had driven his battle fury to new heights.
The flash of a host of brightly mailed Dwarves armoured in rune-carved plate danced before his mind's eye, and it took an effort not to give the order.
The soft rustle of cloth sounded nearby and he looked up to see the concerned face of Amerytha, her normally calm features creased with worry as she looked down at her son. Before she could say anything, however, it was as if the dam that had been holding back Calllian's emotions burst as he fell into her arms with a heartbreaking sob.
He clung to her like a drowning man and Belor could do nothing but watch as his boy's face crumpled in pain.
Denevan had left with the Headmaster to try and aid the Aurors in tracking down the members of the Thirteen and a part of Belor wished he had joined them. He wanted an excuse to hurt something.
"I say we pull them all out, between Den, yerself and the Apprentices there will be enough of yeh to teach them yer Magic. Hells we never should have let them come back to this damned school, at the Castle or in my city they would be safe."
He watched Tyrna out of the corner of his eye, her face was a mask of cold fury and he knew better than to try and talk to her when her temper was up. What was more, he knew she agreed with him.
She had never wanted Callian to come to Hogwarts in the first place, it had been one of the few times that she and Amerytha had disagreed.
Eventually, Callian's sobs had died away and Belor felt his anger smothered under the empty look in his son's eyes.
Amerytha held onto him with a fierce strength as she whispered soothing words, soon Calllian had closed his eyes and fallen into a fitful sleep with his head upon his mother's lap. He soon found the women turning hard eyes towards him. "You may be right, but I feel that Cal and his friends are needed here. Why I can not say, but there is something that tells me this is only the beginning. In the few short months that Cal has been here, we have learned more about the plots and machinations of some very important people and I do not think it was by chance."
Belor watched as a frown flitted across Tyrna's face before her eyes lit up with understanding.
"Yeh believe they're chosen by Prophecy?" his wife asked in alarm.
Belor remembered the words of Magthen at the gathering only a few short months ago, "Arbiters of Fate." He breathed, remembering the echoing chant that had filled his head in the Temple of Delvaryn far below the world.
At Amerytha's nod, Belor let out a long sigh. He had had a few encounters with those cursed by prophecy and forced to dangle from the threads of fate. It was not something he would ever have wished for his son.
"What has Den said about all this?" He asked as he fell into one of the armchairs that they had pulled together during Callian's questioning by the Aurors.
Amerytha pursed her lips as she was silent for several minutes.
"My father has searched for every scrap of information he can regarding the Arbiters of Fate. What he found scares me more than I care to admit."
She turned to look down at the boy whose head was resting upon her lap, her voice held a tremor of uncertainty as she ran her fingers through the boy's long blonde hair.
"There have been many Prophecies that speak of Arbiters of various sorts, from Justice to vengeance, even to the Arbiters of Life and Death. My father, however, believes that they are all in fact Prophecies of the Arbiters of Fate. Each and everyone tells of a different outcome; from the end to an Age of Darkness and the guiding hand to a new Dawn of Magic, yet they are also said to bring death to numbers beyond count."
She stopped and gently shushed the sleeping child in her lap when Callian seemed to give a jolt at her words, almost as if he had been aware of their conversation.
"Then there is also what transpired during Christmas, I know my father is more worried about that than he lets on. He fears that something is trying to communicate with Cal, for good or ill we do not know."
Belor frowned at the woman's words. He had been as shocked as any to realise that his God had been trying to communicate with his Foster-son, but he did not see it as something inherently bad. It was after all Delvaryn, who had sent him to find Denevan all those long years ago. He had stood in the Holy Temple of his Gods within the ancient hold Kar Vaneth, the home of his forebears and heard the whispers of Delvaryn, he would never forget it for as long as he lived.
Seek the Son of Ancient Blood in the shadowed forest. The salvation of my children is tied to the legacy of the Magi. The threads of Fate are cut, from their hands will they be woven anew.
He had heard the words spoken in his ear as clear as day, felt the presence of his God behind him only to turn and find himself alone before the carved idol of Delvaryn. From that day onwards he had sworn himself to the Seeker of Secrets, he had never once doubted his God. It was he after all who had guided him to one of his dearest friends, and from whom he had been granted the chance to make a new life for his people after his father's hold had fallen to the filthy Greenskins. It was Delvaryn that had allowed him to become a father to Callian, it was he that had granted Tyrn and Delmor, his true-born sons, a brother and someone they had come to love dearly.
No, if Delvaryn was truly trying to speak to Callian then it could only be a good thing. He did not say as much however, Humans had long since been deaf to the words of the Divine and it spoke volumes to him and his people that one of the Wizards of the world were showing signs that things were changing.
He shared a look with Tyrna over the woman's head, she had been the one to tell him of Callian's concerns regarding the amulet that he had crafted. Yet she had only praise for his actions, to her the boy was more Dwarf than man, and while he may not look like one he certainly had the heart of a Dwarf in him. In all his long years he had never met a child as strong-willed or as wise as the child before him, and he remembered the words Delmor had spoken before he had begun his pilgrimage into the Deep Roads.
He had the Will of the stubbornest Human, yet the Heart of the strongest Dwarf.
This had been after Callian had snuck into the hold despite being restricted to his quarters for throwing himself from the tallest towers of the Castle practising his Magic, all to give his foster-brother a small charm he made to bring him luck on his journey.
Looking at the boy asleep in his mother's arms, Belor knew that he would get past this. Yes, he was young, far too young to have ever needed to take a life.
But life was often a cruel mistress and sometimes in order to build something strong and beautiful, you had to occasionally dig through the mire to find solid ground.
The halls of the Castle were uncharacteristically silent as they made their way through the school. He had issued orders for every student to return to their House common rooms under the guard of their Heads of House and the prefects, it had caused no small amount of trouble as concerned and worried students had demanded answers.
He did not doubt that his Heads of House would have a few choice words for him when this was all over. However, for now, he, Denevan and the Aurors would search the school, room by room as they ensured that the Dark Wizard and his Thirteen possessed students were no longer hiding within the school or its grounds.
Denevan had split from them along with another contingent of Aurors as they searched the grounds and lower halls.
He felt a sliver of guilt creep into his heart at not informing the Aurors as to just who it was that led his missing students, but knew that few if any would believe him. Even he still wondered if this was all some twisted nightmare, and that he would wake up to find that he had just conjured up bad memories to haunt his dreams. The fates, however, are never that kind, and as he and his companions stepped into the vast cavernous tower that held the moving staircases of the school the Auror who was only a few paces ahead of Albus disappeared in an explosion of blood and gore.
Albus felt the hot splatter of blood hit his face and his mouth was filled with the coppery tang of it as he fell back as he wiped desperately at his eyes to remove the scarlet tide that had drenched him.
Once he could see again he peeked from behind the doorway he had taken cover behind to see that members of the Thirteen had taken positions on the higher landings, each with a clear line of fire upon the lower entrances into the tower.
He watched as the Aurors scrambled for cover amid a shower of devastation, a few managed to shield themselves before returning fire. Albus however noted that the Aurors were seeking to incapacitate instead of harm, and their opponents held no such qualms as a spear of pale grey light shot forth tearing through one Auror's shoulder and gouging an inch deep hole in the wall behind them.
Hating himself for what he was about to do, Albus stepped onto the landing and with the Elder wand in one hand and the fierce fiery glow of spell light in the other he joined the fray.
His first spell rocketed forward with such force it blew one of the Thirteen from their feet to smash into the balustrade behind them with a sickening crack, while he flung his free hand out sending forth several motes of flame that buzzed angrily as they shot towards two more of his former students.
He felt his bile rise as the flaming motes zipped about burning their way through the children's bodies leaving the smell of scorched meat lingering in the air. Many of the Aurors who had accompanied him had stopped to stare in horror as he began to lay into the student with lethal spells, only for several more of their number to fall.
Albus deflected a spell that had shot towards the Auror nearest him, one of the few that continued to fight.
"Robards!" He bellowed above the sounds of spellfire. "Get your men in order! They are standing in the open!"
The Auror who had been assigned to lead their party shot a look at his men before he gave a curse as he nodded towards Albus and moved to kneel behind him, relying on him to provide cover while he began to get his surviving Auror out of this nightmare.
"Aurors! Get your fucking heads out of the air. I need a Healer working on the wounded and covering fire for a retreat."
Albus shot a powerful blasting charm towards the underside of a landing that one of the Thirteen stood upon sending a shower of stone rocketing upwards that left the girl a broken thing, yet still, she tried to continue the fight. Dragging herself forward so her head and wand arm were hanging over the shattered lip of the landing, she continued to fire curses down into their midst.
A cry from one of the Aurors had Albus turning to look at where they were pointing, only to gape himself as the shadows about the ceiling began to roil and heave before moving to pool together in the centre of the trusses that held up the tile roof of the tower.
"What in Merlin's name is that thing!?"
Albus could not tell which of the Aurors had spoken but his attention was focused solely upon the scarlet flames that seemed to look down on them with amusement, and he knew that the Shade of Voldemort had been playing with them. He had murdered Aurors for fun, he had possessed thirteen students purely to tweak Albus' nose and there was nothing he or anyone else could do to stop him.
Once more Albus heard that rich, full laughter that seemed so out of place in the carnage that lay about them.
Moving languidly the pool of shadows began to spread. Thick, oily tendrils snaking their way along the walls until it reached the first of Thirteen, where it touched them the student seemed to become one with the shadows before it moved on.
Robards uttered a curse that would have gotten him a week's long detention had he still been a student, but at least he seemed to know what to do as he began to wave his wand in a frantic pattern. Soon a ball of pure white light began to form in the air before the Auror, however, it did little to combat the growing darkness. Yet to Albus' amazement the tendrils of shadows sizzled when they came into contact with the light.
"Dumbledore! I need Patroni now!" Ordered Robards as the lead Auror dragged one of his wounded men into cover, still, the Auror was waving his wand like a conductor leading an orchestra.
Albus did as he was instructed and began using his formidable skill in the mind arts to bring forth feelings of joy, love and protection.
In a flash of silver light, a large Phoenix burst forth from his wand only to be joined by another as Fawkes appeared in a flash of brilliant flame, bolstered by the song that issued from his familiar others among the surviving Aurors added their own Patroni to his own.
While it did not affect the shadow the same way it did with the other Dark creatures the shadow was unable to pass through the silvery guardians as they danced back and forth across the hall.
They were quickly able to get their injured and dead out of the line of fire, now that the Shadow was somewhat stymied by the light and magical guardians that covered them.
Retreating back the way they had come Albus could only stare in horror as the shadowy mass that was Lord Voldemort pulsed, and one by one the lights of the Patroni dimmed until they faded into fluttering motes of silvery light before they disappeared entirely.
Even the light that Robards maintained seemed to flicker and shrink back as it met the pure might of the Dark Lord, the Auror fell to his knees beside Dumbledore with a cry as a steady trickle of blood began to fall from his nose as his body and Magic were pushed to their uppermost limits.
Kneeling beside the man, Albus offered him a shoulder as the Auror desperately fought to hold back the Shadow that rushed towards them.
Just when he thought that Robards would collapse under the strain of combating the darkness, the shadow stopped its assault. Looking up Albus watched as a tall shadowy figure appeared to stand from within the inky darkness that covered the landing they had just been standing upon.
While indistinct, he recognised the tall silhouette of Voldemort as two crimson flames stared at him.
"We meet again, old man."
The shadow's voice was surprisingly wholesome, it lacked the distinctive hiss that had clung to it only earlier that day.
Albus left Robards' side as he moved to stand at the edge of the protections offered by the light.
"What have you done…" Albus breathed as he stared into those flickering fires.
The shadowy figure gave another rich laugh as he offered a mocking bow in his direction.
"I have regained a piece I had not known had meant so much to me, plus the power granted to me by my Thirteen has left me feeling so much more."
Albus could only stare in horror as the shadow seemed to study him carefully before those fires swept across the battered and broken remnants of the Aurors behind him.
Albus got the distinct sense of pleasure from the shade of Lord Voldemort and felt a cold tremor of fear run down his spine.
He had once thought himself a match for the madman that Voldemort had become towards the end of the War, but now the shadowy figure seemed so much more than he ever had in their past encounters.
But what scared Albus the most was the madness that had always lingered in Voldemort's eyes was absent. The shade before him seemed far more in control of himself and he was reminded of another Wizard, one whose power and influence had nearly changed the very world.
"Do not worry, old man. This is only the beginning, we will be seeing each other again very soon."
Albus could only watch as the inky form of Voldemort seemed to sink into the blackness at his feet before the shadows seeped away through cracks in the stone, leaving him standing there with only the cries of injured and the ragged gasps of the survivors.
