Creeping Death
The day started just like the previous ones had.
Seven drops of venom.
Seven burnt feathers in the crystal bowl.
Gaze at his reflection in horror and watch Lyra cry at the sight of him.
The spidery lines had widened to the point of being about a finger thick and began branching off into smaller ones. The lines that had gone down his neck now reached to the right side of his chest, past his shoulder, and down to the middle of his back. He looked terrifying.
The Giver took out his new backpack and put inside the mug of venom and poison, the spoon, the paintbrush, a few pieces of cloth, the pliers, the framed portrait, and food. The Usurper stayed at The Giver's tree and they began to walk towards the mountain. When they passed above the tree line, they changed course and started to walk around the mountain. Without trees in their way, they made good time.
Harry shuffled wearily like a zombie. All he could think about was following the person in front of him. After the sun reached its zenith and the afternoon began he started to stumble. When his pace started to decline, The Giver simply tied a woven rope around his waist and continued.
Later in the afternoon, Harry started hearing a voice inside his head.
The voice was pleasant and calmly whispered to him. It spoke of the happy times before the pain and before the blackness coming out of his scar. To turn around and go back to playing in the trees and relaxing in the hot springs. The voice became more insistent the longer they walked. Harry started to see Lyra turning around and returning the way they came, and like a good zombie, he followed her. Suddenly he felt the rope on his waist snag and he turned around to see Lyra standing there. How was she in front and behind him at the same time? He looked back at their previous path and Lyra was no longer there. He shook his head and continued their march.
The setting sun was about two or three hours away when they got to their destination. The tree line broke and there was a large clearing with a near-perfect circle below them. In the center of the circle was a quite diminutive tree, maybe five feet tall, but had branches that stretched out ten feet in all directions. It sat on a small hill that put it above the surrounding clearing. What wasn't natural about the plant was there were two circles of stones around it with a radius of about thirty feet and forty feet from the tree. The outer circle was composed of regular stones, while those of the inner circle were the reddish crystals that The Giver used for the bowl he put the burnt feathers in.
The Giver crouched down and pointed at his eyes and then at the plant. A medium-sized rodent of some kind had left the treeline and was approaching the first circle of stones. It appeared to be sniffing the air and then it ran through the first circle, continuing to sniff the air. A second after the rodent crossed the second circle, a vine shot out from the plant, piercing it straight through the skull. It died instantly. Lyra immediately realized why they were there and started to drag Harry away, but the Giver held onto the rope around Harry's waist keeping him in place.
The voice in Harry's head returned, "Go with her, she will keep us alive. If you stay here, we will die."
The Giver was having an argument with Lyra in gestures with Teacher and Charlie translating to her in their sign language. Harry resolved to do what Lyra decided.
He leaned towards her and said in a strangled whisper that barely sounded like his own voice, "Your decision."
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and then at The Giver with determination in her eyes signed very clearly, [Harry Dies, You Die].
The Giver grabbed Harry's rope and pulled him towards the murderous tree. By this point, the rodent had been pulled closer to the roots of the tree on top of the hill. The hill seemed to take a deep breath in and the earth sunk downwards revealing even more roots and an entire graveyard of other animals. All of them had a vine through its skull. It seemed like they were being digested below the ground in the root structure of the tree. The rodent was pulled in and the ground grew back up to cover its stomach. Seeing all this, Lyra was beginning to hyperventilate. Harry reached out through the pain in his head and the darkness calling to him to place a hand on her shoulder to calm her. She took a deep breath and settled down a bit.
When they reached the first stone circle, The Giver turned around and used the rope around Harry to tie together his hands and feet, and then just pushed him over onto the ground. Out of his backpack, he pulled the portrait, the pliers, the paintbrush, the mug, the spoon, and the torn cloth. He handed the portrait to Charlie, and the paintbrush to Lyra. He picked up the mug and unwrapped the leaves from the top of it. Putting in the spoon, he stirred seven times counterclockwise. He presented the mug to Lyra and she took it and put the brush in it.
He turned to Charlie and had him and Teacher stand on either side of the portrait, holding it out as far in front of both of them as they could reach, and then turned their faces away from where they would be walking. The giver made a motion with the pliers, clinking them together then mimed painting it with an invisible brush.
With everyone understanding their roles, The Giver nudged Teacher and Charlie forward and they started to inch towards the plant The Giver and Lyra right behind the portrait. They stepped over the first circle of stones and slowed down. The portrait crossed the second circle before they did, and nothing happened. Keeping their faces turned away, The Giver gave a small nudge to Teacher and Charlie who took half a step forward again. Still nothing. As they were about to take another step, the vine shot out and pierced the forehead of the portrait. As quick as the vine itself, The Giver grabbed the vine on the other side of the portrait with the pliers and held it fast. He struggled to keep it down and pulled it towards Lyra who wiped the brush on the tip. The Giver grunted again and Lyra dipped the brush again. Another grunt, and another brush stroke. She realized what was going on and did a total of seven strokes as quickly as possible before The Giver released the vine. Everyone jumped back as the vine flailed around in the air before retreating into the foliage of the tree.
Lyra began to yell at The Giver. "What was that? You didn't tell me I needed to do it seven times!" She mimicked his clinking of the pliers and his one invisible brush stroke. "Just once! ONCE!"
The Giver seemed to think for a moment and then just raised his hands in the internationally recognized translation of, 'Whatever, it worked.'
As Lyra continued to vent at The Giver, he walked over to Harry lying on the ground and picked him up, holding him upright, and began escorting him towards the circles.
Harry could hear the voice in his head coming back, "Run away, you're going to die! We are going to die! You can't trust this creature! He is going to get you killed! You are going to die never seeing your friends again, never seeing Tracey or Hannah or Tekle again! I will help you! I am Lord Voldemort! I am the most powerful wizard in the world! Who are they? Some disgusting creatures and a squib! They can do nothing!"
Harry was pushed through the first circle. He still didn't know what the word squib meant, but no one was going to call Lyra that after what she had implied. He shuffled a bit forward on his own. "Turn around now!" The voice roared in his head. "Who are you to defy Lord Voldemort? Some child, some half-blooded FREAK!"
That was the last straw. In his head, he called out, "Who am I? I am Harry Potter! I am not a freak! And who are they? They are my family!" Harry snapped the ropes at his feet and took a step forward.
The vine shot out so fast that he only knew that it had started moving. He did feel The Giver move his head slightly to the side before pain blossomed everywhere.
Harry didn't witness what came next himself, but his wasn't the only scream that pierced the night as the vine penetrated his forehead. There was also an inhuman scream louder than his own. It scattered birds from trees for miles around as a pulse of magic pushed outwards from Harry. As the screaming continued, the vine in Harry's scar tried to push deeper to gain purchase, but The Giver held Harry's head still with the vine extended to its limit. Finally, the vine seemed to realize that it would not be able to capture its prey and yanked itself out of Harry's head. As soon as Harry was released, a violet light burst through his scar like water out of a plugged dam with a spectre shooting coming out into the night in the end.
When it had fully exited the fallen boy's forehead, the ghost was clothed in robes of darkness, eyes shining brightly from under the hood as light glowed from its outstretched hands. The specter screamed again and dove toward Harry and the others only to hit a shield of light that burst into existence every time it got close. The specter continued to try hammering the shield, going for a different target each time as pieces broke off with the impacts, and it slowly disintegrated.
Slowly the screaming quieted and the remnants just blew away into the sky as if they never existed. The others just stared. Stared at the sky, stared at Harry, stared at The Giver. The Giver snapped out of it first. He tossed the torn cloth at all the others and started to wipe away at the blackness covering Harry's head and neck. Before this, the spidery lines seemed to be in Harry's skin, and nothing would happen when he rubbed them, now they just were wiped away like wet ink. The others jumped to do the same. When they had gotten all of it, The Giver reached into his pack and pulled out a machete they hadn't seen before. He reached for Harry's hair and started cutting off chunks. Lyra tried to stop him, but Charlie held her back. The Giver cut Harry's hair until there were only little bits remaining and he stuffed the trimmings into another cloth and folded it up. With one more cloth, he soaked up everything that was on Harry's scalp underneath the hair. The Giver stored all of it inside banana leaves and put them back into his pack before he collapsed from exhaustion.
The three that were still conscious dragged Harry and The Giver away from the stone circles back to the tree line. Lyra laid down next to Harry and wrapped her arms around him as Charlie did the same to both of them. Teacher cuddled the children from the other side and they all fell asleep soundly.
Even though they passed out at sunset, none of them woke up in the morning. It wasn't until the sun was high in the sky that Charlie started to move. His movement woke up Lyra who woke up Harry and Teacher.
Harry was sore everywhere. In places that he didn't even know could be sore. His toes felt sore. His lungs felt sore. His ears were sore. Everything ached when he tried to move. So he stopped trying to move and just looked around. His eyeballs felt sore. Lyra's arm around him was starting to move. He could see Teacher sleeping in front of him and The Giver lying a little further away, he was lying half on his side and half on his back as if he had just fallen down and not changed position all night.
Charlie stood up and walked around to look at Harry. He gave a screech that woke everyone else up. Lyra jumped up and gasped in shock as well. She whispered, "Harry, your hair!"
Harry reached up to his head finding it all there. "What's wrong? Did it change color?"
Lyra responded, "No! The Giver cut it all off last night, there was almost nothing left. Now it's all back!
Remembering back, Harry just said, "Yeah… it does that. Well, it did that once before. I guess it happened again."
Harry tried translating again into signs for the rest of them but only was able to assure them that it wasn't surprising to him. The Giver took it a step further and took the machete out and made a motion like he wanted to take more hair. Harry just shrugged and The Giver took a chunk of his hair, leaving a bald patch on the side above his scar. Everyone gasped again when his scar was visible without the hair over it.
"What now?"
Teacher grabbed a stick off the ground and drew a circle with it that had two lines coming out opposite sides, slightly offset from going straight through. Just like someone punched a big hole in the middle of his lightning bolt. Harry reached up to touch it and could feel that the scar was healed over, but slightly deeper in the center.
The Giver picked up his bag and tossed a banana to everyone before walking off, making signs for all of them to hurry to get back.
The Giver moved quickly making them all hustle to keep up with him. Harry tried to explain that he heard a voice in his head before he stepped into the circle and asked what happened next.
Lyra, Teacher, and Charlie launched into a mobile game of Charades as they tried to keep up with The Giver. They explained the deafening scream, the pulse, the wriggling vine, the purple light, the specter, and the shield. Charlie was especially enthusiastic as he mimed the specter disintegrating by pulling out his hair and throwing it into the air.
Moving quickly, they returned to The Giver's cave before sundown. The Usurper climbed down to greet them.
§You have returned, I was not sure that you would§
§The great evil in you is gone, I can taste it no more§
The Giver meanwhile had rushed over to the crystal bowl containing the burnt feathers. He pulled out the cloths soaked in the black ichor from Harry's scar and the spidery lines on his skin and started to squeeze them in trying to get as much as he could out of each one. He dumped the entire cloth with Harry's hair into the bowl as well and squeezed out every drop from that too. The Giver picked up his staff and poked the snake who hissed indignantly back. The Giver tapped the bowl three times and the snake opened its mouth to squeeze three drops of venom into the bowl.
The Giver slammed the butt of the staff into the ground and the red feather on it glowed, causing the contents of the bowl to burst into flames for just a moment before he tapped the staff again and the fire went out. He used the handle end of the club that he used to beat the tree to call the snake to grind the feathers, ichor, hair, and venom into a fine paste.
Then reaching into his backpack, he pulled out the paintbrush and a new red feather. Tapping his staff caused this one to burn brightly and he held the paintbrush in the flame for a few minutes before pulling it out and dropping the feather that went out as it hit the ground. Dipping the brush into the black paste, he painted one spot on each of his temples, connecting them with a line across his forehead. He continued with two lines from the corners of his mouth down to his throat to his collarbone. Then one spot between the two lines in the middle of his throat. The Giver opened his mouth and stuck the brush all the way to the back painting a line to the front of his tongue, splitting it at the front into two small lines forking from the long one. Finally, he painted his lips black as well and stuck the brush back into the ichor, picking up his staff.
The Giver motioned for everyone to back up and when they did, he tapped the staff into the ground causing the paste he had painted on himself to glow. The others could see him gritting his teeth, his knuckles were white while gripping his staff with both hands, and his knees were shaking trying to stay standing. The glow of the lines grew stronger and started to bubble with heat. The bowl of the remaining paste behind him burst into flames and The Giver cried out in pain as all the lines burned until there was nothing left but smoke, hovering over where they had been. He opened his mouth and more smoke drifted out until he took a great breath in through his nose, taking all the smoke in and exhaling just clean air.
He sat down slowly, supported by his staff that he still gripped in both hands, and then laid down by the entrance of his cave looking at the others and spoke,
§Sleep now§
Then he released his staff and fell asleep straight away.
Author's note: I had been building up the scene with Harry stepping into the circle in my head and when I finally wrote it down it came out even more powerful and emotional. When I initially wrote this chapter, it was actually broken in two because I wanted a cliffy after the Creeping Death scene, but it was a bit too short and I think it works better this way.
Author's note 2: The Creeping Death is based on a picture I saw of the 'Man-Eating Tree of Mindanao.' I added a few details to it, of course, especially the whole idea of it pulling its victims into the root structure. The thing that flashed in my head when I imagined what that would look like was the scene from Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, when they discover the graveyard of Ego's children, though on a much smaller scale. Still horrifying though.
Author's note 3: When I started writing, I had been writing continuously for five days when I got to this point. I've slowed down a lot since then, but I plan to do at least all the way through the death of Voldemort, I've done way way way too much foreshadowing so far to stop any point before I get 100% satisfaction for myself or anyone reading. I've always said the deepest and darkest pits of hell are reserved for those who betray, especially those who abandon fanfics. That is a betrayal of everyone who is reading and will read.
Super thanks to MadDoe 1138 for all their beta help. I will probably start posting more than one chapter a week due to the help.