Its that time of the week again! Is it just me, or have reviews been dropping over the past month or so? and I don't mean just my stories, it seems that interest in general about fanfiction has dropped significantly. maybe it has to do with school wrapping up, but idk. anyways, enjoy, and please review! (I really need the boost of inspiration)
Chapter Fifteen
Serpents Strike
Colin woke early on Saturday morning, a mixture of nervous excitement surging through his small body. On the one hand, the first Quidditch game of the season was set for noon that day, and he would at last get to see Harry's reportedly excellent flying skill in action. On the other, Colin had finally pinned down exactly what was the deserving punishment for his fellow first years that chose to defame members of his house deserved.
The entire school seemed to be charged with the same energy in anticipation for the match. As eleven o'clock approached, the mass of students made their collective way down to the stadium. Colin waved at Harry as the black haired boy entered the Slytherin locker rooms before mounting the stands to one of the highest seats, sitting near but not next to Draco Malfoy.
As the teams entered the pitch, the surrounding crowd cheered, and the general commotion of happiness began, tension mounting as Madam Hooch, the referee spoke with the team captains. A blast from her whistle, accompanied by another roar from the students, and the players launched into the sky to begin the game.
Instantly the Chasers sailed after the Quaffle, but Colin's eyes were fixated on Harry and the Gryffindor Seeker as they soared higher and higher, heads darting back and forth to search for the Snitch. Harry apparently found it with immense ease, as he dove after mere moments with the Gryffindor Seeker hot on his heels, but the sleek new brooms that the Slytherin's had was widening the gap rapidly.
It appeared that Harry was going to make this the shortest match ever, until he lurched violently to the side in a barrel roll, dodging the split second Bludger attack from one of the Gryffindor beaters. The older boy's twin followed up with the second iron ball, which Harry also was forced to give up pursuit of the Snitch to dodge.
It became apparent that Gryffindor's strategy, in fear of Harry and the new brooms, was to prevent the capture of the Snitch by having their beaters assault Harry until they had enough points that they could allow the game to end with Slytherin taking the Snitch, as their own Seeker was clearly untrained and outmatched with all the aerial acrobatics that Harry was pushed to do just to keep ahead of the twin red heads.
Colin was on the edge of his seat. The three flyers continued their circling, the twin iron balls continuing to be pelted at the leaner Slytherin by the larger Gryffindors. At the other end of the pitch, the fray over the Quaffle had also become intense. The Gryffindor Chasers had apparently trained hard to try and compensate for Slytherin's improved model of broom, and were managing to hang onto a neck and neck score, and were currently in possession.
One of the red clad girls was speeding down the pitch, taking aim at the Slytherin goalposts, when out of nowhere Harry came pelting past her, one hand outstretched as though he was going to take the Quaffle, but he was too far off course to intercept the Chaser. Regardless of his distance however, the Gryffindor flinched backwards, fumbling the Quaffle to a Slytherin Chaser and almost falling off her broom as well.
With the resulting distraction, Harry swerved back into the air and must have pinpointed the Snitch again, as he dove steeply for the ground seconds after ascending. Again, both Gryffindor Beaters and their Seeker were on him, but unable to contend with the acceleration of the Nimbus class broom. It took Colin several intense seconds to spot the Snitch himself, the glint of gold speeding away from the oncoming Seeker.
At the last moment before Harry struck the tiny winged ball, a trio of things happened simultaneously. The Snitch snapped to the side, which caused Harry to alter his trajectory and lash his arm out wide to close his hand around the golden sphere, and the iron mass of a pelting bludger from one of the Gryffindor bats collided with the arm that suddenly found itself in its path.
The whistle blasted, signaling the end of the game, but Colin saw immediately that something was terribly wrong. Even as Harry landed and released the Snitch, he was staggering slightly and fought to press himself past the students flocking the field to celebrate Slytherin's victory.
As Colin shoved through the crowd himself to reach Harry, his worry was confirmed. The older boy's arm was swollen and hanging at a wrong angle, clearly broken. Colin was shocked that Harry was not only still standing with the level of pain in his face, but managing to move his way through the students and back to the castle without drawing attention to his injury.
That was, until Gilderoy Lockhart appeared to congratulate the Slytherin team.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~line break~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Veneficus hissed in annoyance and pain as the blond placeholder of a teacher seized him by the arm and spun them both to face the massing student body. The man started speaking in his bold, attention seeking voice, but Veneficus tuned him out as he always did these days, focusing on his injury.
The bones of his right forearm were both cleanly broken from the iron Bludger, courtesy of one of the Weasley twins, and feeding his power with that pain was taxing his limits of patience with Lockhart's need for adoring fans. Prying the fingers grasping his injured arm off, Veneficus spun under the fool's outstretched arm and made for the castle for medical attention. Amid all the learning that he had begun with McGonagall and Flitwick, healing had not been on the agenda as of yet. Perhaps after this the Matron of the infirmary could be persuaded to assist the Sith Lord in that area of magic.
Unfortunately, Veneficus didn't make it far before Lockhart realized his prisoner was making a break for the castle. The Force was all that guided the Sith to prevent the blond buffoon from grasping his broken limb, who instead took his opposite shoulder. Whatever the vanity-driven man was planning this time was abruptly interrupted as Veneficus' pain flowed through him, and the Darksider seized Lockhart's arm, channeling Sith Lightning directly into the man's skin, frying nerves and causing the muscles to spasm in agony, small amounts of life force leeching back into Veneficus dulling the pain and repairing some of the damage to his arm. Lockhart jumped back in fright and pain, and in the resulting confusion, the Sith Lord slipped into the crowd.
Entering the castle, Veneficus sensed that he may have had inadvertently made his injury more difficult to explain by using it life drain on the Defense Professor, the damage that may have indicated an arm break remaining, despite the bone itself being mended. Thankfully, he felt that nothing of what his arm had gone through would be too out of the ordinary of a Quidditch accident for the Infirmary Matron to heal. Pomfrey bustled over to him, recognizing the bruising on his arm immediately, and while complaining about the dangerous sport ushered him to a bed.
Waving her wand over him in a complicated arc, the Infirmary Matron frowned to herself, before pointing it directly at his arm and muttering spells in rapid spurts of Latin. There was a snap, and pain flared in Veneficus' limb. Rage boiling again, the Sith yelled out, and nearly had a saber in hand before the Matron pressed a vial to his lips, dumping the liquid down the Sith's throat.
Registering the waxy taste of the numbing potion, Veneficus relaxed. This, combined with the lack of any warnings of danger from the Force indicated that he was not in any sort of danger, present infuriating pain aside.
"Your arm was poorly healed," the Matron explained, rummaging in a cabinet filled with potions, "it needed to be rebroken and mended properly."
"How long…" Veneficus started to ask, but the Matron anticipated his question as she returned holding a bottle filled with purple potion. "The bone will be fixed today, but the rest of your arm's internal damage will take the rest of the night to heal." She handed him a steaming beaker filled of the liquid with a grim look of her face, "You will need to spend the night," she added, indicating a set of pajamas on the bed.
Veneficus saw no reason or means to disagree with the Matron, and swallowed the potion, changed into the clothing and climbed into the bed without complaint. A third potion, for dreamless sleep this time, was given to him from Pomfrey, which was the end of Veneficus' patience for the woman's overbearing nature. Instead of draining therefore, he distracted the Matron with the Force by causing a tray on the far side of the room to clatter to the floor, and disposing the liquid out of sight while her head is turned.
Feigning sleep, Veneficus waited for Pomfrey to depart to her other duties. Once she was out of sight and hearing, he sank into the currents of the Force, observing with interest the changes the potions were enacting in his body. The flows of magic wafted over his arm, weaving through his own innate power and stimulating the damaged tissue to accelerate its natural healing process.
It was almost as if… yes. Veneficus smirked as he finally understood the secret mystery of magic's existence. The different potion and spells were influencing the midichlorians within his body, drawing the power of the Force to healing his damaged cells. But, it was not the Force that Veneficus was familiar with, but a foreign power that was far more chaotic and non sequitur than the Cosmic or Living Force, behaving more like a wild animal than the ebbs and flows of the Universe.
Yet it was part of the Force, there was no doubt in Veneficus' mind as to that. He made a mental note to study this strangeness at the first opportunity he could, but as he was musing on the ramifications of his discovery, his meditations were disturbed by hurried footsteps outside the Infirmary.
Blinking his eyes and stretching out with his senses, Veneficus realized that it was well past dark, and he had been lost to time as he studied the infinite mysteries. He also sensed the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, and little Colin Creevey entering the Hospital Wing of the school
But something was clearly wrong. The aura of anxiety from the two teachers and lack of any emotion from Colin led Veneficus to only one conclusion. Mr. Creevey had been attacked in the same manner as the caretaker's cat.
Dumbledore's conversation with McGonagall and Pomfrey as she was retrieved from her office confirmed it. "What happened?" the Matron whispered urgently.
"Another attack," replied the Headmaster gravely. The old man continued to explain that Creevey was found near the second floor landing of the Grand Staircase, and that he was indeed petrified, exactly as Mrs. Norris had been. The professors' next line of thought led them consider Colin's camera, that he always carried with him. Dumbledore pried it from the stiffened boy's grasp.
"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" McGonagall asked eagerly.
They were all baffled then, when the Headmaster opened the back of the camera and unleashed a hissing jet of steam and the acrid smell of burnt plastic.
Pomfrey was bewildered, but McGonagall had the presence of mind to speak, "What does this mean Albus?" she asked urgently.
"It means," Dumbledore said with finality, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again." The Headmaster was completely silent from that point on, in spite of McGonagall's continued questioning, and eventually the two teachers departed. Madam Pomfrey conjured a privacy screen around Colin and casting a sidelong glance at Veneficus left for her office as well. Making sure she wasn't planning on returning, Veneficus sat up slowly and made his way stealthy to Colin's side.
The boy's eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, where he had been holding his camera, perfectly frozen in place. While annoyed at the loss, however temporary, of a useful servant, Veneficus couldn't help but grin wickedly at the chance that was denied him by the caretaker last time around. Stretching out with the Force, he layered probe after probe over Colin's body, examining every inch of the petrified form.
"Remarkable…" Veneficus whispered. Colin was quite literally locked in a perfect stasis, heartbeat and brainwaves so small that it would appear that Colin was dead, yet still enough to keep him alive without the need of nourishment. The peculiarity sparked an idea within Veneficus. Leaning over Colin slightly to look directly into the wide staring eyes, Veneficus threw himself into the Force, murmuring "Legilimens."
Entering the boy's mind was simple, but finding the memories that Veneficus desired was far harder. Colin's brain was only barely functioning, and Veneficus had to push very delicately or urge the memories to flow to him or risk damaging the boy permanently.
Eventually, the memory finally emerged, and Veneficus quickly pulled the memory into his own psyche, finally withdrawing from the comatose brain and returning to his assigned bed. Veneficus was not certain how long he was rooting around in Colin's mind, and didn't want to risk the infirmary Matron finding him in any situation where unwanted explanations would be required.
Unfortunately, delving into the memory proved to give very little in the way of answers, merely more questions. Veneficus saw Colin creeping out of the Slytherin common room, and up the Grand staircase. Colin was smirking to himself and carrying a large bag along with his wand and camera. Whatever he had been planning that brought him out of the common room in the middle of the night, Veneficus didn't know. He could only guess that it had something to do with the vengeance that Veneficus himself spurred the boy onto.
However, Colin was interrupted while approaching the second floor by a sound that was very familiar to Veneficus. The hissing sound of Parseltongue was not hard to recognize.
"Sooo Hungry… will Master let us feed?" it hissed, to no reply. Colin looked confused at the strange hissing, before turning off the staircase to spy down the corridor from the landing.
Sadly for the boy, his camera which he had readied with his finger of the shutter button, clipped the wall as he peered around the corner, attracting the attention of the figures down the corridor. A flash of light and smoke from the camera, an animalistic roar, and the memory abruptly ended.
Veneficus awoke from his trance with a small jolt. Sunlight was just starting to pour in the far window, and his arm was no longer aching in any shape or form. Overall, he mused, this entire ordeal was not in his favor. Precious time wasted, a servant lost and not even with providing any answers to the mystery of how or why.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~line break~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the freighter pulled out of hyperspace, Zhar Quelmok observed the dark green planet he and Septin were orbiting over. Tiss'sharl was a temperate planet covered with dense jungles, pot marked by lakes and open plains of grasslands. The Imperial capitol, located in the heart of the jungle, was unapproachable from the air due to the overgrowth, so Zhar directed the freighter toward one of the nearest grassy fields, which had been turned into a spaceport.
Septin appeared, and Zhar regarded the odd ex-Jedi as the ship went into automatic landing sequences. The young boy was full of nervous energy, completely destroying any attempt at a stoic outlook of the world that he was attempting to portray. Zhar was… disappointed in Septin's progress in the Dark Side. The boy was strong enough to have used many dark side abilities and techniques, but the boy's pathetic Jedi training and innate goodness was hindering his potential, and sadly Zhar was unsure how to go about breaking the boy in a way that would allow him to rise up strong and more in tune with the Dark Side of the Force.
Perhaps Lord Millennial had seen this as well, more than likely Zhar admitted as there was little that the Sith Lord wasn't aware of, and had set them this mission for that exact reason. Regardless of the Sith's motives, Zhar was going to push Septin to the breaking point, or else he may be returning to Millennial alone.
They had no issues with customs officers or the like, as the world had only within the last hundred years joined the Republic, and tourism was still a very powerful and profitable trend on the reptilian world, making the landing uneventful.
Preparing to disembark on the lush world, Zhar tossed a brown pullover traveler's cloak at Septin. They had previously agreed that disguising as tourists would be the best way to scout out the capital city and decide on the best course of action. The boy started to make his way to the boarding ramp, but Zhar put a hand on his shoulder, "One thing," he said. Pulling out a small knife, Zhar seized the boy's Padawan braid and sliced it clean off.
Septin glared at him, but said nothing, knowing instinctively that the braid would be instantly recognizable if there were Jedi on the planet. In addition to this, Zhar hoped that it would cement the idea in the boy's head that his old life as a Jedi was over.
The Tiss'shar spaceport was one of the more interesting Zhar had ever seen, the combination of metal and wild jungle giving it more of an eerily natural feel than he was used to seeing. Elongated and slender, the Tiss'shar were very unusual themselves, even to Zhar who had seen a wide range of the species of the Galaxy. The dock manager approached, and as he spoke Zhar was heavily distracted by the constant movement, which appeared as almost a secret sublanguage in itself. A twitch of the tail here, flexing the sharp claws there, and the ever moving tongue even amid speaking Galatic Basic all gave the impression of layered dialogue that the humans were unable to interpret.
"Greetings humans, welcome to Tiss'sharl, I am Res-Tek-Char," Zhar only half listened to the well scripted introduction to the world and its docking fees, before dropping some credit chits into the creatures claw and responding that they were tourists, out to see the planet, which was satisfactory for the being.
Leaving the spaceport, Zhar and Septin boarded a shuttle with a myriad of other off world beings, and set off on a scenic ride through the jungle toward the capitol. Zhar contented himself to casually glance out of the shuttle's many windows at the passing scenery, while Septin sat quietly, most likely keeping a lookout for anyone with hostile intent. Purely jedi in action, and Zhar nudged him to prevent the boy from potentially drawing attention.
The jungle itself was unimpressive, with the occasional smaller transport passing back toward the spaceport. Upon entering the city, however, the sights became far more informative if not more interesting. Like the spaceport, the capitol of Tiss'sharl was constructed of the same mixture of durasteel buildings and raw jungle. What was far more interesting were the Tiss'shar themselves.
"Whoa," Septin said, looking out the window himself, "they all look so similar…"
Indeed, Septin's brazen declaration was for the most part accurate. All the Tiss'sharl looked relatively similar, each group of the reptilian beings even having near identical markings. A group of blaster-wielding soldiers with thin concentric bands stretching from their pointy-tooth jaws down to their clawed feet passed in from of the nearest building where workers with diamond shaped markings down their backs hauled crates and other tools.
"It seems that the Tiss'shar operate on a strict caste system based on physical appearance," Zhar commented, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder to steer him towards the shuttle's exit. The transport had come to a rest alongside a large causeway with many varied and highly tourist-oriented shops. Off in the distance loomed the shaped and twisting spires of the Tiss'shar Imperial Palace.
Septin started to walk toward the city center and palace, but was forced to stop when he realized Zhar wasn't following. Zhar had stopped after exiting the shuttle and decided that he had far more pressing matters to attend to before their mission, and turned to face the nearest cantina. He hadn't had a proper drink in months, and he had planned to take the first opportunity since arriving on the rock of a planet the Sith had exiled themselves on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~line break~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione hadn't been sure if she could find more ridicules rumors than those that circulated about Harry when Filch's cat was petrified, but she had clearly been wrong. The news of Colin Creevey's attack sent the entire school abuzz all over again, with Harry as prime suspect. The biggest reaction came from the other first years, who refused to travel about the castle in fewer numbers than a group of three, for their own protection.
However, the most interesting reaction was not that of the first years, as far as Hermione was concerned at least. It was the other Slytherins. The green and silver robed children did not in the slightest change either for or against Harry, seeming to be completely uncaring about the entire situation. It posed only two possible reasons in Hermione's mind. Either the entire house was in on the string of attacks, or none of them were, Harry included.
This line of thought set Hermione ablaze with frustration at the sheer lack of observation that the school seemed to possess in ample amounts. Even she noticed how Colin had doted on Harry's every word, relishing just being around the older boy. True, many were using that behavior as motive for Harry attacking him, but they failed to look at how Harry reacted to Colin's devotion. From her time watching him discreetly, Hermione could tell that Harry thoroughly enjoyed having Colin around, despite his keen attempts to mask any and all emotion. It was almost as if Harry was grooming young Colin to some end, but what she was not certain. Hopefully soon she would find out the truth in perfect fact.
Standing in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, away from the prying eyes of the school, Hermione watched her small cauldron bubble away happily in one of the disused stalls. Thanks to the book that Professor Lockhart signed for her to remove from the restricted section, Hermione was well on the way to making Polyjuice Potion, which would allow her to impersonate another person. The only trouble was that there were ingredients that would only be accessible in Professor Snape's private stores. That and the time requirement to actually brew the potion, Hermione had her work cut out for her.
She had already rationalized that taking the ingredients would be worth it if she could assist in proving who was behind these attacks, although it did little to ease her mind. Currently the Potion was nearing its halfway point, and Hermione had Potions with the Hufflepuffs early that week, which would present the opportunity to get just enough of the two ingredients for her needs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~line break~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Albus sat at his desk, quill tapping quietly against parchment. The idea he had wanted to write had escaped his brilliant mind, as was unfortunately prone to happen these days. Albus was greatly distressed by all the happenings within the walls of Hogwarts. The reopening of the Chamber of Secrets was a terrifying thought on its own, but the speculation of how was all the worse. Voldemort had managed to infiltrate the school to release the monster, that part was clear.
Whether Harry was involved directly was the pressing matter. Naturally Albus cared for all the students in his school, but if Voldemort was in the castle then Harry in particular was not safe. And if Harry was being used to do the Dark Lord's bidding, then it was all the worse off for everyone.
At least there was one shining silver lining. Harry would not have attacked Colin Creevey. Albus had heard through Severus that the first year had formed a quick albeit odd friendship with Harry, so if it was indeed Harry that opened the Chamber then it was definitely against his will or unknowingly.
What was more with respect to Harry was the report that Albus had received from Madam Pomfrey after the boy's Quidditch accident. During her routine diagnostic scans, the Matron had found that young Harry had had many injuries over the course of his short life. Countless breaks had been healed over his entire skeleton, and diminished scars littered many parts of Harry's body. It only pointed to one answer - sustained and prolonged physical abuse. Albus could only guess the full extent of what Harry was suffered and survived, and whether it expanded to metal or emotional abuse as well.
Albus had known that Harry's life with his aunt and uncle wouldn't be pleasant, but had full trust that the unspoken threat of magical retaliation would keep his family in line to make certain that Harry was given all he needed to survive to age eleven. Albus had hoped to find and defeat Voldemort for the last time before that, and thus allow Harry to return to the magical world and even live elsewhere where the boy could flourish, but he had not been able to find Voldemort anywhere, but only rumors.
Thusly, for the boy's safety, he had remained in the muggle world, even at the cost of his happiness. That was the part that hurt Albus the most of his decision, that he had had to sacrifice the boy's happiness for his survival. But apparently fate had sought to undo what he had done, and inflicted a worse punishment on the poor boy who had already suffered so much.
Albus took full blame for every injury Harry had, there had to have been something he could have done to prevent all this: taken Harry himself, given him to the Weasleys or Professor McGonagall, anything at all. Yet there the trauma that lay before him, listed in brutal honesty and feeling for the entire world like hot irons ripping through his chest. He had done all this to Harry, turned him into a near perfect copy of Tom Riddle, yet more so.
A rap from the window drew the agonizing Headmaster from his sorrow, and he turned to see a great eagle owl perched imperiously on the sill, a scroll in its beak. Retrieving the message, Albus gazed down at a letter who handwriting was thus far unknown to him, but quickly he realized that it was the ever waited for response from Lord Blackmoore.
It was short, contained only the barest of detail as to why the man was too busy with reestablishing his family name in wizarding society to meet one on one, but a hope that they would eventually have a mutually available position to discuss Albus' questions. There was nothing in the entire letter that could give Albus any idea what the man was like, who he was or what beliefs he held. It was, in a word, the blandest letter he had ever read. And yet in that it gave Albus the most frightening clue of all. The letter screamed that things were being hidden from him, and that alone shook Albus to the very core.
This was a refusal to meet until a point of advantage could be reached, clear Slytherin tactics through and through, and against such an opponent that Albus knew next to nothing about, it was most worrisome.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~line break~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thursday evening at eight o'clock, Luna went with the majority of the student down to the Great Hall. The dear Defense Professor was going to attempt to teach them how to duel. Luna thought the man both very funny and yet very sad, funny as he truly tried as hard as he could at everything he did, but sad because his own doubts prevented him from succeeding in life.
Navigating through the crowd, Luna found her best friend and longtime neighbor Ginny Weasley, who over the past few weeks was looking more and more unsettled with the strange goings on of the school. It started when their class mate, Colin, was attacked. Ginny was Colin's Potion's partner, and had learned a bit about the boy over their time in the dungeons. Luna was very concerned for her friend, as it seemed that some gloom of mistrust was gathering around her, but she knew better than to try and voice what she saw or felt. No one ever listened to her, let alone believed her.
Minutes before eight, the Slytherin's arrived, The Darkness leading them. Luna looked sadly at the blond boy that followed The Darkness' every move. His life was going to be long and painful, since he had bonded his life to The Darkness, and he would be dominated in all his choices forever by it.
She was distracted then by Professor Lockhart's arrival. "Gather round, gather round!" he called merrily. "Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"
As Professor Lockhart went about explaining his club, Luna found her eyes wandering. Whatever power allowed her to see into people and their souls also had a knack for directing her to notice things that others wouldn't, and this was one such instance. One of the Hufflepuff second years, a round faced boy with curly blond hair, was glaring across the room at The Darkness, and Luna could see fright mixed with anger from all the rumors in the air. Luna hoped that the boy would come to his senses before he aroused The Darkness' wrath.
Professor Lockhart started his demonstration with Professor Snape at that point, and while many students laughed when the Defense Professor was thrown off his feet, Luna frowned. People getting hurt, however minor, wasn't a very funny thing to her. The blonde Professor must have realized the futility of he himself trying to show off spells, as he immediately switched to dividing up the student in pairs, and Luna stayed close by Ginny to be with her. Looking around as the students were sorted into pairs, Luna saw Professor Snape beeline for The Darkness and his blond assistant.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~line break~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Veneficus frowned as Professor Snape loomed over himself and Anguis. If not for the chance to observe a vast amount of the students with the Force and sift the masses from any other potential skill Veneficus would not have even come to the fool's sham of a club.
Ignoring Veneficus, Snape turned to Anguis, "Time to split up the dream team, I think," he said slowly, "Malfoy, you will partner Miss Granger," the girl turned from talking with a small knot of other students. Veneficus attempted to slip away, aiming for the door into the Entrance Hall, but Snape called him for him and a Hufflepuff student with curly blonde hair. "Mr. Finch-Fletchley, let's see what you can make of the famous Harry Potter,"
Veneficus sized up his 'opponent'. The boy was not overly impressive, magically or physically. The only clear indication that this boy warranted any of Veneficus' attention was the glaring amount of resentment and distrust ringing through the Force. 'Clearly a believer of rumors and fools,' Veneficus thought scornfully.
At that point, Lockhart decided to continue the debacle, "Face your partners," he called, "and bow!"
Finch-Fletchly partially bowed, wisely keeping his eyes of the Sith Lord, while Veneficus did not move. Lowering himself in any form of respect to an unworthy opponent was utterly beneath him, and reeked of the forced equality of societies that he had been taught to despise.
"Wands at the ready," the fool of a professor announced, and Veneficus and Finch-Fletchly raised theirs respectively, the former as more of a precautionary measure than the latter. The precaution turned out to be wisdom, as a flash of the Force was his only warning before the Hufflepuff boy prematurely attacked. Dodging with a quick sidestep, Veneficus grinned as the spell continued on and hit another student in the back, knocking them away.
Chaos ensued, with barely any of the students casting the disarming charm they were instructed to. Veneficus dodged several more spells, a few from Finch-Fletchly, many more rebounding from parts of the room unknown.
"I said disarm only!" Lockhart yelled, but no one listened to him at this point. Relishing in the wild energy that was swirling in the room, Veneficus turned his wand on the now infuriated Hufflepuff. Sadly the Sith Lord was restricted on what spells he could cast in the crowded room of potential witnesses, so he restrained his arsenal to what 'school appropriate' hexes and jinxes he had bothered to learn. Still, his attacks far outstripped the fool's ability to defend, and within seconds Veneficus had knocked Finch-Fletchly out completely, and turned to enjoy the madness of the great hall, occasionally sending out a spell here or there to add to the chaos.
Alas, the savageness of the emotional tide the ruckus created was short lived, as Snape took charge over Lockhart's pitiful attempts to restore order. "Finite Incantatem!" he bellowed, dispelling all the magic in the room that the students had caused. Veneficus took the opportunity to survey the damage.
Ronald Weasley and his friend Seamus were both on the ground panting, while several Ravenclaws were gathered around Terry Boot, who was bleeding out the nose. Snape had swooped down to revive Finch-Fletchly, but by far the most compelling distraction was the continued movement from Hermione and Anguis.
The pair of students were still on their feet, spells and shields flying in a constant exchange. Lockhart was calling for it to stop, but the blundering buffoon was ignored, as Miss Granger and Anguis continued their ferocious display. Veneficus was impressed that the girl was managing not only to hold off his acolyte, but maintaining a vicious offensive, often using spells in a most unorthodox fashion.
Anguis attempted a slashing wand movement, but Hermione was a step ahead, countering him by summoning several blond hairs, yanking the boy's head forward sharply and interrupting his concentration. Reeling with pain and stung with angry embarrassment, Anguis cried, "Serpensortia!" From his wandtip exploded a long black adder, hissing furiously at the sudden relocation.
Hermione didn't even think twice of the threat of a snake, banishing it away with a flick of her wand. The serpent flew through the air and, before anyone could react, landed hissing and spitting on the just reawakened Finch-Fletchly. Rearing up and hood spreading, Veneficus knew the snake was moments from biting the hapless boy. But as preferable as it would be to simply stand by and watch the boy die, Veneficus knew that Dumbledore would inevitable find a way to pin blame on him, and mount more pressure for intrusive questions.
Instinctively, Veneficus pressed the serpent's mind with the Force, soothing it and commanding it away from the Hufflepuff. Only when he felt the eyes of the entire room on him did Veneficus realize that he had dipped into speaking Parseltongue unconsciously.
"What do you think you're playing at?" Finch-Fletchly shouted, before bolting for the door out of the hall. The students started muttering immediately as Snape stepped forward to vanish the adder.
Veneficus sensed Anguis' immense desire to leave, and turned for the exit with his servant on his heels. Once safely inside the Slytherin common room, Anguis turned to him, "So," he said flatly, "a Parselmouth on top of everything else…"
Veneficus said nothing, but still nodded. Just then the other Slytherins arrived, eyeing the young Sith with curiosity, mixed with awe on some of the young year's faces. Their spokesman stepped forward, a tall seventh year boy. "Potter," he said slowly, "a few words…"
Veneficus inclined his head, granting the boy permission to speak as Anguis and the rest of the gathered students dispersed.
"I… well we…" the boy started, stammering slightly at being so close to Veneficus, "we just wanted you to know that, in light of your being a Parselmouth, that we… we will stand with you against the rest of the school…" he paused looking highly uncomfortable. "Regardless of your less than pureblooded ideas, having that ability makes you Slytherin through and through, and we need to stand together."
Veneficus pondered this for a moment, allowing the teenager to stand there awkwardly for a few moments longer before answering, "Loyalty… one rarely finds such principles these days…" he paused, breathing in the feeling around the room of students before turning to face the seventh year, "I thank you for bringing this to my attention, and I accept. You may go," he added, turning toward the dormitories to retire for the night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~line break~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jedi Master Coven stirred restlessly as she felt the resonance of the Dark Side as it rippled unseen through the Galaxy. Something was going to happen, and the Jennet Jedi was not going to stand idly by and allow the rest of the council to prevent the Light from defending the Republic.
Retiring to her quarters, Master Coven made a discreet call on her communicator, and sat down to mediate and locate where the disturbance originated. The Force swirled around her senses, and the small Grand Master of the Order found her consciousness hurtling through space. On and on she flew, unhindered by distance or time, until she saw a deep green world, shadowed in darkness like a hand ready to seize it.
"Tiss'sharl…" she muttered, slowly returning to the Jedi Temple there was a knopck on her chamber door.
"Enter," she said, blinking to focus herself. Four beings entered, each of whom had received special training from the Grand Master herself. Ferros Oduro, a male Miraluka who was strong in seeing the Living Force as it radiated from others, Ora Pasdak, a female human with fire in her eyes, and probably one of the quickest hands when it came to the saber among the four.
Following the pair was the male Aqualish Borta Marb, who had special talents with shrouding himself and others within the Force, and finally the Female Zabrak Clerta Morei, who rounded the group out with her telekinetic skills.
"You sent for us Master?" Ferros said calmly, but Coven could sense that all four of them were on edge, knowing that they were only called upon for specific missions.
"Yes," the Jenet Grand Master replied, standing, "I've sensed a disturbance on Tiss'sharl. Something is going to happen there, and I fear that the Dark Side is involved in some way." The four Jedi looked at each other, resolving themselves to the task about be asked of them.
"What would you have us do?" Ora replied, control and poise etched in her face.
"I need you four to go there, find out if and what is going on, and if need be, put a stop it. If Darksiders are involved, detain them if you can, eliminate them if you must."
"As you wish, Master." They said in unison, and departed immediately.
Master Coven watched the four of them leave; hoping that if anything was going wrong on the serpentine world, that the four Jedi Shadows would be more than capable to handle the situation. "May the Force be with you," she muttered as the door slid shut with a subtle hiss.