Author's note this is a message for everybody reading thank you all so much I hope you enjoy this newest chapter it's the longest one so far also though I don't really ask for them reviews really would be appreciated.
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Moxxie woke up the next day sore out of his mind. He had fallen on his ass an unholy amount of times, and yet Moody had seemed quite pleased by his advancements in learning to use the broom. Mostly, when he had ridden it, he felt his instinct kick in, like he knew what he was meant to be doing like his body responded perfectly to the broom's whims - but then he second-guessed himself, and down he went.
He remembered Sirius' words about how his father had been a great Seeker before him, and he almost felt like the whole ordeal with the broom was his Harry-ness combatting his Moxxie-ness. Thankfully, he never went too high up until he learned to suppress that annoying voice in his head that insisted that he was wrong, that he was dumb, that he was an imposter that had no business flying a fucking broom.
It hadn't taken more than two or three hours to get him to fly steadily, and he had even been able to do a decent amount of racing before Moody barked at him and urged him not to get too greedy. Still, if he meant to use the broom to defeat the bird, he would need to be able to pick up speed. He supposed he would have to learn on the fly. Haha.
He had thought that after having spent so much time learning to dominate flying, Moody would blow him off, and he'd be left without instruction for the Accio spell, but Moody took him back to the dark classroom that they had been in the previous day and set to work.
Soon, his wrist became sore when Moody showed him the wrist motion, and try as he might, he only got nearby objects to slam into his face or too weakly wiggle about. Moody had been pissed, to say the least. He insisted on Moxxie using the wand he was meant for, but Moxxie changed the subject and excused himself every time Moody brought it up.
He even tried to teach him some other spells, but they usually flopped horribly, even if Moxxie pronounced and motioned everything correctly. Two hours in, when it was plain to see that they would make no further progress on the unfit wand that Moxxie had gotten, Moody looked at his limit and told Moxxie to rest up for the following day. "The children that you are up against are no children, Mr. Potter. Make no mistake about it. Do you think that flying will give you the upper hand? Krum is a professional Seeker, the youngest of his age; Cedric Diggory is a master at charms and spells, and as for Miss Delacour… well, she's as much of a fairy princess as I am," Moody warned him as he was leaving.
He told him he would need his strength if his 'dim-witted ass would be incapable of using a wand.' And though Moxxie felt utterly defeated by the whole session, like his entire brain had caught fire with the burning pain of his own uselessness, he still couldn't find it in himself to be more scared of anything than he was of using that wand. Moody could warn him, taunt him, smack him with his massive wooden crutch, but he would never touch that wand again if he could help it.
When Moxxie had gotten to his rooms, he felt downright feverish, and already the sky was lightening. Still, despite his exhaustion and being so overwhelmed by all the jumbled events of the day, he fell into a fitful sleep next to Millie's comforting, snoring frame.
His mind kept racing, retracing everything that had happened, speculating on what would occur next, and it kept him up until it ran itself to an exhausting death. The next morning, Millie tried to wake him up on five different occasions, and at some point, she even feared that he had died in his sleep.
At eleven, after the shock of a cold glass of water to his face, he finally got up. The Imps immediately interrogated him on what had happened the previous night, and they were more than discouraged to find that the spells had proved to be mostly useless.
Only Millie kept trying to keep a hopeful face for Moxxie. "So, you're dead, basically," Blitzo said. "What would happen if you, like, crawled under a rock and decided not to participate? What then?" Loona asked, picking some grime from under her nails. "You two shut up. He can still get the better of this," Millie said in an unwavering voice. Moxxie looked up at her through sleep-crusted eyes, thankful but disbelieving.
He wondered whether she even believed what she said herself. Staring into her determined, wilful eyes, he thought he saw the traces of her scheming face beginning to surface.
He frowned. "Mill, what are you thinking?" He asked warily, taking one of the breakfast rolls they had separated for him and shoving it into his mouth all at once. "Sirius said to try and get you disqualified, right?" She asked, licking her lips excitedly. "So what if we do something to help you… that would get you disqualified. Wouldn't that be ideal?" "I mean, yeah, but-" "We'll bring the broom to you," Millie blurted, looking like she was planning a fascinating trip to Cancun. "Once they try to isolate you, we'll sneak into wherever you need to fight and give you the broom." "How will you pass unnoticed?" Moxxie asked, frowning. "Like we give a shit?" She snorted. "What does it matter? If they do notice us, I'll bet anything that they'll disqualify you. Plus, invisibility cloak." "You know, it's a pretty solid plan," Blitzo said, rubbing his chin as if he had a single hair on it. "I know," Millie said, grinning. All three of them looked at one another, but no one cared to look back at Moxxie, who seemed alarmed.
He thought it was a good idea, and if he had been asked why it made him uncomfortable, he wouldn't have known what to answer, but something didn't quite sit right with him. Still, he kept his silence, and, as per usual, no one really asked him for his opinion. Why should he disagree, anyway? There came a loud knock on the door, and he was spared from giving it any further thought.
Moxxie sprinted up to answer, and he was greeted by a very sour-looking McGonagall. She eyed him up and down, her expression one of complete exasperation. "Mr. Potter! Are you not dressed yet?" She complained. Moxxie looked down. He confirmed that he was, indeed, wearing clothes. But this was the kind of stuff that his nightmares were made of "Uh…." "The robes, Mr. Potter. I sent them to you this morning," she sighed, looking behind him to the three other figures that were plotting something by the couches. "Oh, right, sorry about that," Blitzo leaped up and did an awkward walk-run to his room.
He came back a few seconds later with some crumpled clothes in his hands. "Had to try them on," he excused himself as he handed the pile to Moxxie, who took it between two fingers with great care. Lucifer only knew what he had done to them. "Aren't these too big?" Moxxie questioned, turning them over.
McGonagall cleared her throat. "For your human form, Mr. Potter," she clarified, her mouth pressed into a hard line. "Right, well, I'll be right back, Moxxie said, smiling uncomfortably and hobbling over to his bedroom. As he changed, he could hear Blitzo chatting McGonagall up, presumably to get her to change back his pig's tail.
He even thought he had heard 'you come 'round here often?'. If he were lucky, McGonagall would only give him a snout this time. After shifting, he slipped, or, rather, forced himself into the clothes, which were at least two sizes too small, clearly made for a big teenager.
But he was far past being a big teenager. He initially thought they were too big, and now he understood that they were far too small.
He tried to move around in them, but it was hard and stiff, and he felt like a middle-schooler in a toddler's clothing. They expected to throw him into some sort of an arena to battle a giant bird with a dress that made him feel like he was wrapped in cellophane? He sighed and left, meeting McGonagall back at the door, where Blitzo was still trying to get her attention and inviting her in, but she solemnly and dutifully ignored him.
She eyed Moxxie up and down, clearly disapproving of the ill fit of the clothes, but she made no comments. Blitzo did. "Well, don't you look like an oversized baby? You know, you're pretty rough-looking in your human form." They all ignored him as Moxxie headed over to McGonagall. This was it. The grand moment where he would finally be thrown into the death ring or whatever the hell he was up against.
He took in a shaky breath and tried to steady himself. "Headmaster Dumbledore would like to see you before the first challenge, Mr. Potter, if you'd come with me," McGonagall said curtly, her long robes swishing behind her as she eagerly left the room.
Millie rushed to him as he headed out the door, following McGonagall. "Moxx, come to us before the tournament. We need to see where it-" "We already saw where it is. Kind of," Blitzo interrupted, "We saw them preparing like ropes and shit to keep the people in check during the competition. It's right by the creepy forest place." Millie looked from Blitzo to Moxxie as unwilling to let him go and recognize that this would be the last time she saw him before the big moment.
With a sigh, she leaped up to him (which was a considerable distance, considering how tall Moxxie was in his human form and how small Millie was always) and kissed him. He encircled his arms around her and held her close to keep her from falling. Millie slightly opened her mouth and worked her tongue into his mouth, and Moxxie was about to respond excitedly before he heard a prominent cough coming from outside the door. He separated from Millie to look back: McGonagall stood halfway through the corridor, waiting for them to be done with an impatient look on her face.
Moxxie slowly put Millie down, but before he did, she pulled him closer and set her lips right beside his ear. "We'll be there. We'll take the broom," and then she slipped two things into his pocket. One of them was unmistakably a knife, probably swiped from the breakfast table discreetly.
Before he could wonder what the second item was, Millie had shut the door on him, and he was left looking behind at the closed door, speechless. As they walked to Dumbledore's office together with McGonagall, he had to resist the urge to check what it was that Millie had given him - he didn't want to take it out now just in case it wasn't something he was supposed to have. But what? Would they check him to ensure he didn't have anything on himself before they set him against the giant bird? What kind of school was this, anyway?
This tournament seemed a little too dangerous for comfort, so what reasonable adult could agree to something so precarious for children? Wizards were insane, that was for sure.
He had an idea of what it was that Millie had given him, and it made him uncomfortable, but it wasn't something that he was going to confront right now, just as he made his way up to Dumbledore's office. McGonagall left him at the statue, and when he entered, all was silent. He shyly made his way inside to find Dumbledore solemnly standing before the window, looking out pensively.
He started a bit at the sound of Moxxie's careful footsteps and slowly turned around. "Ah, Mr. Potter. I feel it has been a long time since we last saw one another," and it was hard for Moxxie to disagree on that - it seemed to him that eternities had passed since he had last seen Dumbledore, though it had probably just been yesterday. "How were your interviews?" The man asked lightly. Moxxie noted that he used the plural. Dumbledore was no fool, and he knew that the Ministry had spoken to him, but did he know what they had said, what they had discussed?
In Dumbledore's twinkling eyes, Moxxie almost felt like the man carried the secrets of the universe and that he knew exactly what had gone down the night that the Minister had come to talk to them. But Moxxie steeled himself, determined not to betray anything, and decided that he wouldn't let anything on or let the old man know that he knew that he had wizard-roofied his friends. "Weird," Moxxie replied, and that wasn't a lie, not at all. "I can only imagine," Dumbledore said, striding to his desk.
He fingered a newspaper sitting on it and silently handed it to Moxxie. "Ms. Skeeter," he said, as Moxxie took the moving-picture newspaper, "had much to say about you." Moxxie turned it over in his hands, trying not to get shocked by the moving images.
These people were wizards, after all. Harry Potter, an Old Devil, or the Saviour? Moxxie bit his tongue as he read that headline. Old? He thought, offended. He skimmed over the article, salaciously written, like a gossip magazine, and full of misinformation. Skeeter had either taken what he had said and warped it to the point of ridiculousness or straight out lied. She had even written that he was forty, and the large picture that was displayed was of him sitting back his with his hands behind his head, looking at Skeeter evilly.
It was a horrible portrait of him. He wished he could write an article about her - he certainly had many things to say, and they weren't lying at all. "I can't imagine this will win me many friends," he muttered anxiously, his anger subduing to make way for nerves. "I'm afraid not, but the other interview has yet to be published," Dumbledore commented, but something about his tone put Moxxie on edge.
What if they didn't publish the other interview? What if the wizarding world would now consider Moxxie to be some sort of hellish monster out for their blood? He would have to read Skeeter's article in detail to know what kind of impression she really left of him to the public, but it certainly couldn't be anything good.
Maybe they had made him comfortable saying anything to Skeeter just so that that could be the only public opinion of Moxxie, and then… and then what? Would they all lynch him? Send him back? He had to remember that that was one of the best options because, really, did he want any of these people thinking he was a savior? That he was going to battle whatever darkness came to them? No, the best option was to head back home and pretend that nothing had ever happened, to have everyone make as if he had never had anything to do with the wizarding world in the first place.
He didn't know why, but he had the impression that this would never end, however much he wished it would. He supposed that that was what was putting him so on edge. If this whole situation would have a hard time dying down, what kind of consequences could generalized hatred bring him?
He set the newspaper down and looked at Dumbledore, who was staring back at him empathetically. "You'd do well to remember who your friends are, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said severely. I suppose that means you, right? Some friend, drugging those I love, Moxxie thought bitterly. Besides, what kind of cliche was that? Remember who your friends are? Did Dumbledore watch the Vampire Diaries when he wasn't busy drugging people? "Right," was his only reply. "I trust you are prepared for the tournament?" Dumbledore asked casually. "As prepared as I can be," Moxxie huffed anxiously.
He would've been lying if he said he didn't feel comforted by the reassurance of Millie, Blitzo, and Loona being there. Really, now that the moment was so close, he felt naked, vulnerable. "I hope you know, Harry, that I would not send you out there if I did not think you could fend for yourself." Moxxie frowned at that. "What do you mean?" "The magic you've been taught, together with your channeling-" "The wand is a bust," Moxxie suddenly burst out. He wasn't used to interrupting people like this, but any mention of the wand made him jittery and nervous, and he was sure that was what Dumbledore was talking about.
The whole situation just seemed to be applying an awful pressure to his chest. The wand was supposed to be one of the key elements to helping Moxxie in the tournament, but he simply couldn't use it. He remembered Moody's words and his dejected look as he watched time and time again as all the spells flunked pathetically while Moxxie tried to execute them with the faulty wand that did not belong to him.
He feared using the wand more than he feared whatever consequences would come of not using it, though he understood that they were not minor. Still, he felt almost repelled by the wand, and the object that Millie had inserted into his robes weighed heavily on him.
He was certain that that was what she had left him with because he had purposely tried to leave it behind. Millie was smarter. She knew better. Of course, she would try to protect him, no matter what. But he couldn't use it, not for the life of him. "Yes, Hagrid has informed me of the ordeal with the wand," Dumbledore said, looking straight at him with an intensity that left Moxxie feeling a bit smoldered. He half-expected to be scolded for the whole theft episode, but the old man didn't look mad. Instead, he just seemed eager.
For what, Moxxie couldn't be sure. "But a wand does not make a wizard, Mr. Potter," he looked at Moxxie from over his half-moon spectacles expectantly, as if wanting him to understand something that Moxxie couldn't quite understand as of yet. "What do you mean?" Moxxie asked nervously. "Oh, nothing at all. I am certain that you will do what must be done when the time comes," Dumbledore said lightly, suddenly looking more normal and less intense than he had before. Moxxie wanted to question him further, but Dumbledore spoke again. "In any case, it really is about time that I take you to where the task will take place. Do come along," he quipped, gliding over to the door. Moxxie followed him, trying not to shake.
Dumbledore silently led him through deserted hallways, down the eternal stairs, and finally out into the open. It was strange to Moxxie that the whole castle grounds appeared to be abandoned, but he soon understood why when they approached the edge of the forest, just by Hagrid's cabin, where the entire school and their mother seemed to be clamoring about. There were hordes of kids standing around behind pickets, waving flags and hooting, their faces painted different colors. Moxxie could see that some of them held banners that read 'Go, Cedric!' And some words in different languages and other names that were surely meant to encourage the other champions.
He was surprised not to see any banners that said, 'Harry Potter eats ass.' The kids were all clustered around neatly by an archway that had recently been erected, and the picket fences forbidding entry to the Dark Forest hadn't been there before, either. They clearly marked where the crowd was supposed to halt and where the champions would be expected to enter. Alone. Moxxie's heart fell to his ass. He was overwhelmed by the crowd, which started grumbling and muttering to themselves warily as Dumbledore approached together with him - but the reaction wasn't surprising, nor was it the worst thing out of the whole situation. What was worse was that there wasn't a single familiar face in the crowd.
He wanted to tuck himself beneath Millie's wing or run back to his rooms and cry until someone came to fetch him and sent him back home, where he could do his job as he had always done, comfortable in the uncomfortableness of Hell. It was actually somewhat funny that he should find Hell preferable to this place if that were your kind of humor.
He bit his bottom lip and ground his teeth as they made their way to the archway, where more professors and the three other champions were standing, waiting for their arrival. When they were all together, the flurry of people around them were all buzzing with excitement. Still, whenever Moxxie looked around at any particular face, he found only contempt and a bit of fear, even more than before. How had a single new article done this - and aside from that, couldn't these people draw their own conclusions? Didn't they suspect anything when Moxxie had literally entered Hogwarts through an ungodly portal in his Imp form? He found himself hating the children about him and the adults even more so.
Dumbledore stepped aside to face the crowd, then he raised his wand, touched it to his throat, and cleared it. Everyone immediately fell silent. It was always striking to see such displays of simple and concrete power from Dumbledore. "I am pleased to announce the commencement of the first task of the Triwizard Tournament," he said in a booming voice that echoed throughout the entire grounds, the wand serving as an amplifier to his voice. "To symbolize the union and cooperation of our three schools, our champions will have one common objective," Dumbledore explained. "They shall be tasked with finding the Firebird, who guards four eggs that shall help them advance to the next task," he took a breath before proceeding as the crowd cheered. "Firebird?" Moxxie uttered in sheer terror under his breath, unable to help himself, but the Cedric boy overheard him. "It's only a name," he whispered to him with a sympathetic smile. "It doesn't actually have anything to do with fire," he told him. Moxxie looked to him in slight shock - why was Cedric helping to put his mind at ease?
He looked at the well-meaning expression. Maybe he was just a good guy. Moxxie was a bit shocked. "Thanks," he replied with a wobbly smile. Cedric nodded and looked back ahead to the crowds. "The champions will begin at different starting points, each at the same distance to the Firebird. When the cannons go, they may enter the Dark Forest and begin their search," Dumbledore finally concluded. Then, Moxxie, Krum, and the blonde girl were taken away, Cedric staying there as his own starting point.
Moxxie was led by Snape, who gruffly grabbed his arm and shoved him away from the crowds and the other champions. They walked around the periphery of the forest in silence, the only sound coming from the dying clamors of the crowd and Snape's swooshing, dramatic robes. "I trust you have everything you require?" Snape asked curtly. "Uh, sure," Moxxie replied, feeling the nerves starting to take over him.
He was certain that his legs had started to wobble, but he had to be stronger if he wanted to get through this. He shut his eyes, hoping he wouldn't fall on a hidden branch or something, and went to his happy place. There, he could see himself in the hot comfort of his home with Millie. They were curled up in their threadbare couch, and a moth-eaten blanket spread over them, Moxxie lying on Millie's chest and very nearly purring because of the pleasure it brought him. The TV crackled unsteadily since all things malfunctioned in Hell.
However, they were still able to watch the movie through the incessant freezing of the images - Millie had bought a slightly scratched CD of The Phantom of the Opera for his birthday a few years back. Though Moxxie was prone to falling asleep during movies, he kept wide awake whenever they watched it, no matter how his eyelids started drooping. Millie was running her fingers through his head, massaging it as she watched the drama unfold, and he alternated his view from her to the TV in utter bliss. Then, when he felt steady, he opened his eyes.
He was still in the forest, about to enter a life-threatening contest, and Millie was nowhere to be found. He could only hope that they hadn't enchanted the forest so that no one other than the champions could enter because at that moment, though he has calmed down considerably, he understood just how badly he needed Millie by his side. This was harder than anything that he had had to face, and it wasn't because of the looming threat of the Firebird, but rather because he was alone. He took another deep breath.
The more he thought of it, the more it would make sense for the wizards to put a spell around the forest to keep anyone from entering it, but he had to convince himself that the Imps were wily enough to get through whatever defenses were in place. "You have your wand?" Snape asked coldly. "Yep," Moxxie replied. Like it'll do me any good. And then the oil-haired man stopped at some invisible marker and waited, staring ahead, looking stoic and bitter. What the hell was his problem? In a world full of magic and wonders, couldn't he grow some magical herb, smoke it, and calm down?
He knew McGonagall was uptight, but it was even charming in its own way, like a hard-headed grandma. Snape, however, was really something else, like all that motivated him on this planet was spite and resentment. He almost could've pitied the man if he hadn't hated him so feverishly. Lost in thought, he almost forgot where he was and what he had to do. His brain caught halfway between images of him and Millie having sex on a swing, watching a movie, or cleaning up weapons and thinking of how much he disliked the man before him.
But then, the cannon boomed, and Snape gave Moxxie a shove inside the invisible line it seemed only he could see. Moxxie turned to look behind him, almost to ask what now? But Snape's figure was already receding, his back turned completely, not looking behind him.
He didn't seem at all worried that Moxxie would run or try to escape the forest, further reinforcing the idea that some sort of spell had been cast along the boundaries of the forest. Moxxie was horribly tempted to test his theory, to try to step back out, but he feared Snape would jinx him or that the forest would shock him or throw him back on his ass like some sort of forcefield if he tried to leave. So, clenching every muscle in his body, he advanced.
At first, he was very watchful, keeping an eye on every little bug that crawled on a tree, every single branch that cracked and broke beneath his feet, but as he walked on and on, he realized that to find the Firebird, he might have actually to make an effort. He kept looking up, trying to see the treetops, but it wasn't effortless considering the thick foliage of the forest.
At some point, he realized that it was futile if he kept on walking about in what he was sure were circles. He stopped and fished for the wand. As he looked in his robe pockets, he felt the box that Millie had slipped on him. He took it out and opened it, but judging by its leather exterior, and he already knew what was inside.
He put the wand back in his pocket and took the one that he actually meant to use. "Accio Firebolt!" He exclaimed, swishing his hand just like Moody had told him, putting all the weight he could into the spell, like his will for it to work would somehow impact the effect.
He looked around, waiting for something to happen, some zooming noise that meant that the broom was coming to him. The wind passed through the trees, ruffling the leaves. Nothing. Moxxie sighed, embarrassed and feeling like the very trees were laughing at him. He shook his head and kept walking aimlessly.
Deep down, he had known that something like this would happen - he had only barely hoped that the broom would come to him - it was probably a long shot even if he had been a trained wizard: he didn't know how far away the broom was, or how difficult it would be for it to respond to the summoning spell. Still, he had been holding onto some hope, and now that it was confirmed that he was entirely useless, save for the knife that the Imps had swiped for him, he felt the pressure of being alone. Would the Imps be able to find him in the vastness of this forest? How long would it take him to find the Firebird with absolutely nothing going for him?
And how long would the task even last? If Moxxie didn't find the Firebird, if he decided to sit down by a tree and wait for it all out, would nightfall, a new day arrives, and all of wizard-kind stubbornly tells him that he would starve before they let him out of the woods? Plagued by questions and no longer jumpy at the sounds of the forest (which was incredibly dark considering the time of day, the upper branches of the tall trees blocking out the sunlight), he kept walking until he suddenly heard a scream.
He froze in his tracks. It was a woman's scream - could it be Millie? Was she in trouble? Had she made it inside only to be attacked by the Firebird? Moxxie sprinted to the general direction of the scream, which hadn't been that far away. After a few seconds of running, he easily became winded and tired.
He was horribly frustrated - he needed to get there if it was Millie that had been in trouble, but his stupid human form was betraying him. In a split second, he decided to send it all to hell. He took only a second to stop dead in his tracks, shut his eyes, and allow his comfortable change back to the real Moxxie, the Moxxie that came in Imp form. If he were going to be forced into this contest, he would at least do it in his own way, or the best way that he possibly could.
The clothes now fit him even worse, and he kept only the tighter underclothes beneath, discarding the robes completely - they were keeping him down, anyway. He shoved the leather box of the wand into his pants and, with the other wand in his hand, took off again. The moment he started running once more, he heard two more sounds. The first was a shrill 'non!' which came from the same place as before, but now he knew it didn't belong to Millie. The scream sounded French, almost, and he would've bet anything that it came from the blonde champion.
The second sound was the beating of massive wings and the heavy current of air that moved as the wings did. Moxxie's blood froze. What kind of animal could produce a sound like that, be that large, and still somehow remain airborne? His mind briefly pondered whether he should still be racing towards the girl - she clearly wasn't Millie, and she was supposed to be some trained assassin witch, and still, she had gotten in trouble with the bird, so how was he supposed to help her?
Before he could make a decision, however, a massive shadow, like that of an airplane suddenly passing close over his head, loomed above him. He looked up to see the massive corner of a single, yellow wing. Was this contest just a competition to kill people?
Was there any insurance that they wouldn't all perish? He hadn't seen a single person this whole time, and though he had to assume that the other teenage champions were in the forest with him, was there an adult capable of taking on a creature that size that would be able to come to their aid if they were on the brink of death? Moxxie doubted it horribly, and he was about turn in the other direction when he suddenly heard Millie's unmistakable voice coming a little farther from him. "Moxxie!" She cried out, and her figure emerged from the trees. Moxxie wouldn't have been able to explain the great relief that he felt when he saw here like he had been filled with lead, and now Millie had come to leak it out of him.
The fact that he was now probably being chased by some merciless monster bird somehow didn't matter as much as the fact that Millie was nowhere. "Millie!" He called back out to her, rushing to meet her. The shadow of the bird kept sweeping over their heads, and when he neared Millie, he was even happier to see that she was struggling in her jog because she carried the broom tucked beneath one arm. "Are you alright?" He asked as he reached her, taking her in his arms.
That moment of panic that he had felt when he had heard that first scream had not been forgotten in his head. "Yeah, sugar, but I think that blonde girl got attacked. I didn't actually think these assholes would let people die in here," she said breathlessly. She looked excited, and it was clear that she was experiencing an adrenaline rush, but Moxxie also thought he saw a tad of fear and insecurity in her eyes. "Did you see her?" Moxxie asked, looking around. Millie nodded her black curls bouncing on her head. "She's just back there, by the… by the nest. What if the bird comes back to kill her? Maybe we should let her, I mean, she looks a little judgy." "By the nest?" Moxxie asked, his eyes gleaming. "Let's go, then," he said, remembering what they had said about the bird.
There was no doubt that the egg that he was meant to find would be in the nest. He didn't know why, but he found that, despite himself, something desired to win this stupid competition, to prove himself somehow, as daft as that may sound. "But the bird-" Millie said. "It was flying in the other direction. If we get the egg, we can probably get the hell out of here - someone might even help us," he pointed out.
Millie nodded, that same excitement that she always had in her eyes during a dangerous situation starting to flood her features once more. She took him in for a big kiss, now not caring and directly twirling her tongue into his mouth savagely, as if she were hungry.
They only allowed it for a split second, and when they separated, they were out of breath once again, but that didn't stop them from sprinting over to where the nest was. As they ran, Moxxie suddenly remembered the existence of other people. "Where are Blitzo and Loona?" He panted, now seeing that they would have to go over a hill, at the top of which he could see some massive branches and even a few tree trunks all massed together - presumably the nest. "We separated - they went out looking for you with some guns. They have the cloak," she informed him, her eyes straying from their goal, the nest, and landing on a far-off tree. "There," she pointed out, her finger signaling a crumpled, dainty figure by the foot of the tree.
It wasn't exactly out of their way, so they went over to the fallen girl. Dumbledore had said that they were meant to cooperate, right? So for now, they weren't exactly at odds with each other, but Moxxie still couldn't quite bring himself to believe that any of these teenagers would be eager to side with him - hell, he had a hard time believing anyone in the wizarding world would ever want to side with him.
But whether it was right, wrong, intelligent, or stupid to go over to the girl, both Millie and he had wordlessly decided that they were going to do it. When they arrived, the girl was stirring, starting to sit upright. Her almost-white shock of hair was gathered in a loose ponytail, now filled with twigs, leaves, and dirt.
Her fair face was scratched and bleeding, a deep gash on her forehead, and she had claw marks on her shoulder, her light blue robes torn open.
She seemed to be shaking herself out of a daze, and when Moxxie and Millie approached her, she started before gathering her wits and remembering who they were. "She is not supposed to be in here," she said in an incredibly thick French accent, clutching her head but not seeming particularly pissed about it. She looked down at the ground and then at the sky. Moxxie would've bet anything that she had a concussion. "Viktor, he… he used me as bait," she suddenly said, looking shocked. "Who in the fuck is Viktor?" Millie demanded, looking up at the skies warily, expecting to see the imposing figure of the Firebird approaching at any moment. "Krum," the girl said, picking herself up and wobbling a bit. "So much for magical cooperation," Moxxie muttered as he helped her not to fall over.
The girl accepted his help with a look of open contempt on her face, but still, she gratefully leaned on his shoulder. Just as she seemed to be steading herself, a great, booming screech came from somewhere in the forest, not too far off. The sound seemed to reverberate throughout the ground and shake the very leaves scattered there.
The hairs on their arms raised, and they stood frozen in shock for a moment, terror invading them and taking its place where excitement had previously been. After a second, they all managed to compose themselves, though Moxxie really wished they had time for a bathroom break. His stomach had problems when he got nervous, as Millie knew. "Do you still want the egg?" Moxxie asked the girl eagerly, and when he asked her that, she suddenly seemed no longer concussed.
A fiery look took over her face, and she nodded with firmness. Another shrill cry came, but now they were prepared for it, and they weren't as rattled as before.
However, it was closer, and that didn't help the sense of alarming urgency they all had. "Go with Millie to the nest, and I'll distract it," he told them, taking the broom from Millie's hand. "And just what in the hell are you gonna do, Moxxie? Start signing show tunes to it?" She huffed, looking worried. Moxxie understood that the courage he suddenly felt was unlike him, but something had possessed him - maybe it was here, in this school, in contact with the life that he could've had or the person he could've become made him act this way.
He felt braver than he ever had, less uncertain. Sure, his stomach made flips and threatened to make him wet his pants, but there was something else mixed with the fear. He felt the leather box weigh heavily on his waistband.
He knew that Millie was right, but he also knew that the broom was one of his leverages, and he would be damned if he didn't use it. If all else failed, he could try pooping on the bird, anyway as vengeance for all the ones that had done so on him, too. "I have the broom," he said. "Go, hurry!" And he didn't wait for a response before sticking the broom between his legs and kicking up off the ground. And up he went.
The feeling of flying without having Moody to restrict his height or speed was unimaginable, and he couldn't believe how free he felt at that moment, with the surge of the earth giving way beneath him and the replacement of solidity with air. He thought that his bowels would've gone the moment he kicked off, but instead, all within him was replaced with the most innate sensation of calmness.
This was unlike what he had done with Moody previously, but it wasn't just because of Moody's absence. It was because of him. Surely the adrenaline also played its fair part, but if Moxxie had to make a bet, he would've placed all his money on the difference being the fact that he was in his Imp form.
He simply wasn't comfortable as Harry Potter, and he perhaps would never really be Harry Potter - but that didn't mean that a part of that boy didn't still live in him and probably always would. And if the parts of him that were Harry Potter also implied flying, then maybe he would be alright with accepting himself together with all that he had been suppressing.
Despite the natural feeling taking over him, he was still slightly wobbly at the beginning, not exactly being trained in the art of flying, and though he wanted to look down at what Millie and the French girl were doing, he feared that if he looked down, he would lose his balance. He lifted himself above the general tree line, and when he did, he saw the bird.
It loomed up ahead, its weight distributed on many treetops. It was larger than anything he had ever seen, and yet it still somehow maintained a certain kind of elegance and beauty, slender and shining in the warm afternoon light, its rich yellow feathers gleaming. With the world below hidden from view beneath the thick foliage, Moxxie felt completely at ease, and the bird hadn't even spotted him yet.
He did a few tests run, seeing how much speed he could gather and how fast, and when he was satisfied, he sat waiting for the Firebird to make its move. He sat perched on his broom, much like the Firebird sat perched on its many trees, and waited until the great creature would finally see him.
It didn't take long. The bird cocked its massive head as if perceiving something, and then it suddenly turned to look at Moxxie. Its eyes were the color of fresh-drawn blood, and as it saw Moxxie, it gave out another curdling scream, the kind that made Moxxie feel like he had shrunk.
The screech revealed a million sets of razor-sharp, relatively small teeth that looked like the inside of the shredder, and the great bird now looked less like some sort of majestic being and more like a creature pulled straight from Hell.
Moxxie knew that if he really wanted to keep the bird on his tail and keep it far away from the two women beneath, that he probably should've provoked it or chased after it, but he was Moxxie, so the moment that the bird spotted him, he sent his broom zooming in the opposite direction. The bird was surprisingly fast considering its massive size, so Moxxie was slightly grateful for his cowardly instinct to start running from it immediately, but at some point, he wasn't sure if that would be effective. The Firebird was gaining on him. Fast. He wanted to outrun it, but even reaching a smooth speed that he wouldn't have ever thought was possible, the bird still kept coming closer and closer.
In a flash of logic and forgetfulness, he dashed below the tree line in an attempt to make it clumsier, which it would become if it were in a more enclosed space. Still, he accidentally lured him almost right by the nest, where Millie and the French girl would likely be stealing the eggs now.
He had gained on the bird, but when he looked down to see what they were doing, he was not mindful of the break-neck speed that he had gained and was thrown off his broom by a wayward branch. It struck him right in the stomach, and he even felt a little pee leave him as he toppled to the ground like a threadbare doll. "Moxxie!" He heard Millie screaming as he fell. He made a rough landing and grunted, his leg bursting into pain as the wind was knocked out of him, his body hitting the floor with a thud.
He supposed it could've been worse, but his pain hurt so badly that he could think of nothing but his lack of breath and the thousands of knives that kept repeatedly stabbing his legs. His vision had turned black with stars, and for a moment, he feared that he would pass out. Luckily - or unluckily - the bird gave out another screech, presumably because it noticed its eggs being hijacked. He had landed right by the nest, so Millie was next to him in no time. She knelt before him, and as the blackness cleared from his sight, she was the first thing that he saw. Her face was screwed up in an expression of fear and worry.
A massive blue egg the size of her head lay beside her, ignored. "Moxxie, baby, sugarplum, are you alright?" She cried, holding his head in her hands. Slowly, the constriction in his chest began to give way, and he started wheezing. He felt like his lungs and his left leg was on fire. "Yeees," he managed to say, but not very convincingly. "We gotta get you the hell on out of here," Millie grumbled, but when she did so, she was suddenly dragged from him by her feet. "Millie!" He wheezed, his scratchy voice coming barely above a whisper. He could only sit there, the tears of pain filling up his eyes as he watched her being dragged backward by her feet, screaming. Moxxie could see the Firebird's massive figure behind her, plucking her from him.
He wanted to get up and punch it or try to get Millie himself to pull her back as if he had the same amount of strength as the gigantic thing. The wand, he remembered. He weakly pulled out his wand, leaning back against a tree, although his leg screamed at him not to move. The blonde girl had sprinted over to him and was helping him do it, pulling out her own wand and starting to scream out spells at the creature, but it wouldn't stop coming.
Moxxie pointed his wand in its direction, but he didn't say anything, just sat there looking at it, stupefied. "Help me, petit demon!" The blonde girl hissed at him, and immediately Moxxie started spouting out spell after useless spell that he managed to remember from what Moody had taught him. But whether it was because his wand didn't really work, or because even with the two of them together, it still didn't make a difference, the creature didn't let on that.
It even felt the spells being cast. Moxxie felt the weight of the dark box in his trousers, now uncomfortably close to his intimate areas after the fall. Is that what he was meant to do? Could that wand make the difference between life and death for the woman that he loved? Gritting his teeth, he removed the wand from his trousers and tried to sit up. Leaning against the tree, the blonde girl helping him stand up on his one good, though the wobbly leg, he clutched the wand tight in his hand.
It seemed to be whispering evil things to him, things that he did not want to hear, things that he could not hear. Could he really unleash all the badness and darkness that he felt from it, even if it meant saving Millie? He gritted his teeth as the bird took Millie in its massive mouth, the small Imp struggling wildly but futilely against it.
Moxxie could see that it was about to bite down on her. He closed his fingers around the wand, but… then he felt that same calmness wash over him that he had felt when he had been on the broom, that same feeling of strange connection between his wizard self and his Imp self, a connection that was really the coexistence of two states in one same being, a sort of harmony that he had never thought was possible. He felt Harry wash over him, he felt Moxxie wash over him, and he felt them both become one, one single person in a single body, not two creatures at odds with each other. Moxxie the Imp, Harry, the wizard. He felt them both clasp their hands within him, holding his heart in their entwined grasp.
He suddenly remembered what Dumbledore had said so cryptically before, and he thought of the kind of power that he had always been able to summon by himself before the whole wand nonsense had started, the power that he had been hiding away for very long, suppressing. He wouldn't suppress it any longer Fuck the wand. Moxxie let the dark wand fall to the floor, and, holding both his hands together, he kept his eyes shut and held them forward to the Firebird. He felt a beam of heat escape him, encapsulate him, focused on his hands, and directed straight towards the colossal creature.
A burst of light shot through his closed eyes, and with shock, he opened them. A massive line of fire was in direct contact with the Firebird's chest, and it started screaming in a more horrid and terrorizing tone than ever before. In its anguish and pain, it dropped Millie from its jaws, and she darted away hastily. Moxxie wanted to stop the beam, but he found that he couldn't, not even when the great bird's plumage caught fire, the fire clearly now being overkill. If anything, the beam seemed to be getting stronger and fiercer, and it didn't stop until it burned a great, clean black hole through the bird's chest.
It stopped its screeching, falling in a massive heap to the ground, and Moxxie collapsed just as it did. _ He awoke in a room full of screaming people. "Mr. Potter must be taken to the infirmary, not kept here like some sort of hostage! It's barbaric." "Non, he is barbaric. He must suffer the consequences." "I agree with Minerva, and Potter must recover before he is fully interrogated," now he recognized Snape's bitter voice. Moxxie's first conscious thought was of Millie, though he calmed a bit as the events of the task began filtering into his mind very slowly, and he remembered Millie skittering swiftly away as the Firebird dropped her from its jaws. "Recover where? He has killed an ancient creature, most treasured. Who knows what else he is capable of?" "Well, maybe he wouldn't have tried to kill it if you assholes hadn't set the damn thing on him, now would he?" Came Blitzo's angry voice. Moxxie opened his eyes.
He was lying on the couch in Dumbledore's office, where a whole crowd of angry wizards was gathered. Loona and Blitzo threw in the mix. Millie was missing, notably. "Regardless- oh, look, he awakens," said the woman with the thick French accent. She was standing protectively over the blonde girl who had helped him.
The girl was simply staring at her feet, looking a little traumatized. Moxxie tried to sit up, and he thought he would feel a great deal of pain, but his leg was numb, and though it wouldn't respond to him, at least it didn't hurt anymore.
His chest still ached, but breathing came easily. "Harry," Dumbledore said, rushing over to him. "How do you feel?" "Like a giant bird tried to kill me," Moxxie grumbled, feeling faint, his head swimming. He thought he might pass out again, but the clamor of the crowd around him was too much to let him fall back into sleep. "He is in no fit condition to be here, Albus," McGonagall said, pursing her lips. "I agree with McDonald's on this one," Blitzo agreed. "What happened in the forest, Harry?" Dumbledore asked serenely. "I… the Firebird was coming at-" he halted himself before he said, Millie. She wasn't supposed to be there in the first place. It took great strength of mind to watch his words in the weakened state that he was in. "It was coming at me.
I just defended myself," he argued. "Quite some defense, Mr. Potter," came the voice of Mr. Crouch, sullenly standing in the corner. "Harry, did you know that you were able to summon that kind of magic?" Dumbledore asked, looking straight into his eyes. Moxxie was too woozy to keep the same level of intensity. "No," he replied. "But of course, he is lying!" Cried out the massive French woman. "I think you're lying, female Hagrid," Blitzo accused her. "Why don't you ask blondie over there what happened? If he had known he was able to do that, he wouldn't have broken his leg." Everyone stared at the blonde girl. "Go on, Fleur," the tall woman encouraged. "I…" the girl's eyes skittered over to Moxxie and then went back down to her feet. "It's true. It was coming at him. He didn't even seem to be able to do simple magic before.
It seemed like a defense." Moxxie had to question why this girl was lying for him - she had conveniently omitted that it was Millie that the bird was attacking, not him. "She's in shock, doesn't know what she's saying," the man with the crooked teeth argued. "How about I shock your balls off, yellow-tooth?" Blitzo growled at him. And then the room exploded into an uproar once more. Everyone was yelling at everyone, and considering the pounding in Moxxie's head, he even thought of blocking his ears.
He spotted Loona rolling her eyes at everyone from the corner and called her to him. It took most of his energy to do so over the loudness of the room. "Where's Millie?" He whispered in her ear, hoping no one would pay attention to him over the clamor. "She's fine in the rooms. She looked too banged up to come here. It would've been too obvious," Loona informed him. Moxxie sighed with relief. "Your mom!" Blitzo was screaming at Barty Crouch, meanwhile, and there were too many points of focus for Moxxie to look at, so he felt that even the screaming was lulling him to sleep.
He felt his eyelids drooping, his vision growing black… and then the screaming suddenly stopped, like the cease of bird-song before a disaster. That alarmed him, and when his eyes snapped open again, he realized that they had all stopped speaking because they were looking hypnotically at a wall.
A swirling, purple portal had materialized there. A second afterward, two demons emerged from them, none that Moxxie knew, and after them come another, familiar figure. "Blitzyyyyyy," it called smoothly, "is my favorite little cum-dumpster here?" Stolas purred, looking around in all his feathered glory.
The wizards stood looking at the new characters, shocked, their mouths wide open. Even Blitzo seemed dumb-struck. "Stolas?" He asked, and Stolas suddenly spotted him. "And just what are you doing here, my pretty little man-toy?" "These assholes are keeping us, hostage," Blitzo said, still looking at Stolas like he couldn't quite believe he was there. "And who exactly are you?" Stolas asked, looking around at the odd scatterings of people. Dumbledore stepped forward, the only one out of the bunch who didn't look like he had just gotten shot. "Albus Dumbledore," he introduced himself, "Headmaster here at Hogwarts." "Ah, and might I ask what you are doing with my favorite little Imp? I am here to retrieve him."