Another pair of weeks, and another chapter to post again. The work on the sequel is proceeding as planned, and I am quite enjoying where the story is now proceeding, just fyi... please keep up the reviews, thoughts and comments are wonderful pinpricks of light that allow inspiration to burst forth into new and profound story ideas!
Chapter Forty Eight
Signs of the Times
Albus was horrified and sickened by the report that the merchieftainess gave him regarding Harry and how he rescued his captive. The merpeople had acted as instructed, attacking and forcing the boy to fight for Malfoy, but even Albus had not expected the boy to defeat them so quickly or easily.
What was more, the boy's power seemed to be far stronger than even Albus had initially guessed, as he batted the merwarriors aside with little effort, and even his strange magical sword was something to be concerned about. The entirety of Albus' fearful plan was starting to come apart at the seams, and if he didn't push the boy into revealing himself to others, unknown damage could be done to their world.
Meeting the boy's eyes, Albus paled at the smug look of haughty satisfaction they reflected, amid the clamor of the other professors and judges as the other two champions returned, ending the task. Albus was soon called to recount what the merpeople had to report about the Champion's efforts under the lake, and to vote on point distribution. Each champion would receive points out of fifty for the task, and as much as Albus hated to do so, he had little choice but to vote that Harry received full marks for being the only one back inside the time limit with his hostage.
As Ludo announced the decision of the judges, Albus turned to leave. There was little left for him to do here, and with the sickeningly dark acts of their boy hero under the lake, he wanted to be alone. More than ever now, with full report and accounts of what Harry was capable of, and the reckless aggression that he showed toward the merpeople, he was now very afraid for the Light's chances.
There was no longer any point denying it, Harry had gone dark, embracing the dark sorcery that Blackmoore had instructed him with most likely, and was well set on the path to become another, more terrible version of Voldemort.
Arriving in his office some time later, while the rest of the school was coming in for lunch and to warm up from the frosty air in the grounds, Albus slowly glanced around, wondering where it had all gone so wrong. The boy had been placed so carefully with his relatives, surrounded by wards that ought to have kept out any sort of dark spells or individuals, especially Death Eaters.
Albus sat behind his desk, idly tapping a blank scrap of parchment with a quill, trying to riddle out the last few details. He did not want to consider the option, but he recognized that he may have to destroy Harry if the boy showed that he willingly would continue this path even without Blackmoore guiding him. This thought above all tore at Albus' very soul. To destroy the boy that he took all manner of precautions to protect, where would be find the strength to do such a thing. He couldn't even bring himself to slay Gellert, even after the man destroyed half of Europe in his pursuit of power, then how could he bring himself to slay a fourteen year old boy, despite the level of dark magic he had embraced.
It was like facing Tom Riddle the boy all over again, and Albus felt now just as he did then. There just had to be another way, some option he was overlooking, that would allow him to save Harry; bring him back into the light, and restore the tiny, happy babe he had met a small handful of times in the Potter's home at Godric's Hollow.
Something shimmered in the corner of his eye, and Albus turned. His eyes fixed upon the Sorting hat, which from its wide brimmed bottom was emitting a strange silvery glow. Standing and crossing to the hat quickly, Albus reached inside and grasped something cool and metallic. Pulled the object out, he discovered with wonder and amazement a silver and jeweled sword emerging from the hat. Across the blade was etched the name of the founder that Albus himself had respected most of all, and had been proud to belong to the man's house while he attended school.
Godric Gryffindor.
If ever there was a sign of what he needed to steel himself to do, this was it. Closing his eyes and gathering his strength, Albus grasped the sword, praying to the powers that be that he need not do the thing he felt was to come to pass. But if needs be, for the Greater Good, he would strike both Blackmoore and Harry down, and prevent a tyrant of epic proportions from rising in the ashes of the modern world.
By Merlin he swore it. But to prevent such a travesty, he turned back to the plans for the final task, and began to pour over the notes once again, there had to be something he could change, last minute, that would make the difference; something that may just tip the balancing act that Harry was playing just enough for the boy to make a fatal mistake. The other judges would never allow him to enforce monitoring charms on the champions, or that would have been the simplest solution. Perhaps if he rigged the maze to a specific signal when dark magic was used, but that wouldn't fly with the other judges either.
Albus sighed; trying to figure this problem out was leading him back to square one. There were many things he could do, but when he had to run every decision by a panel of people unwilling to cooperate with each other, everything inevitably fell apart.
But he would work on this for days on end if he had to. For Harry's sake he would find a way to avoid a bloody end to this business, and save the boy from a cruel and dark fate.
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Anguis paused momentarily over his cauldron, watching as the Headmaster of Durmstrang entered the dungeon classroom with only a few minutes before they were to be dismissed. Since the second task things had become relatively quiet, for him at least. Veneficus was still on the receiving end of a large amount of praise, from most of the school, and a comparatively large amount of scrutiny and ridicule, from the rest.
For his part, the Dark Side adept was laying low, trying his best to operate on his own and not draw his Master's attention unless he specifically wanted something. He had received return letters from his plethora of networked spies that he had recruited from his late father's old allies, reporting that there were nearly a dozen young children that exhibited the specific traits that marked them as future Force users in the country, and half again in the nearest magical communities in greater Europe.
However, several were nearing ages where they would be sent away to schools like Hogwarts, if not the illustrious school itself, and they were asking for their orders of how to proceed. Luckily there was a Hogsmeade weekend the next day, and Anguis had already prepared his answers: monitor those not in any danger of disappearing from their sights, and the others needed to be collected, unharmed or threatened in any way, but kept somewhere safe until Anguis could inspect them himself and determine who were the best candidates. Setting a date well into the coming summer, Anguis had directed that Malfoy Manor would be the ideal location to house these future guests.
At his side, slowly wrapping up the final preparations for their potion, Veneficus listened to the two professors with half an ear, but the Sith Lord could plainly not care regarding the two adults partial conversation, or at least the pleading of Karkaroff to speak with Severus and the Potions Master's attempt to push off the man until a more private setting.
Severus seemed more than grateful for the bell to ring, and shouted at the class that they were dismissed, before stalking angrily to his office with Karkaroff hot on his heels. Veneficus set off without Anguis, wandering off to who knew where the Sith Lord decided to be these days, but with the free period for lunch, Anguis wanted to dip down to the Chamber of Secrets for a short time, to recover a tome he had left there while studying the art of Sith Alchemy.
The same book, which Lord Veneficus had allowed him to bring to Hogwarts, had taught the young Darksider much regarding the lost practice, however he was still very far from ever attempting any of the powerful or exotic of their spells or manipulations of the physical world.
Entering the main chamber of the subterranean complex, Anguis was about to turn off toward his workspace and Slytherin's library, when a tingling sensation in the Force made him pause. Turning about, he eyed the opposite side of the passage, where Veneficus kept his things and had all but vocally forbidden Anguis from entering.
Something within was calling to him through the power of the Dark Side, drawing Anguis like a moth to the flame. Subconsciously, he walked toward the room, knowing that there would be means to prevent his entry on the door, both magical and Force based, but not caring in the slightest.
Reaching out with his power, Anguis could sense the enchantments that were set to recognize Veneficus alone and bar entry to all others, which meant exclusively Anguis as there were none else that even knew of this place. It spoke of distrust at its highest level, but after four years around the Sith, Anguis would have expected nothing less. An overpowered dispelling charm silenced any wards that may have alerted Veneficus of the violation of his private chambers, and Anguis stalked inside, finding the room illuminated by an eerie red glow.
Within the chamber, on a waist high plinth, sat a strange-looking, blood red orb, which gleamed and sparkled with its own power. As Anguis grew closer to it, he couldn't help but be distracted further by the pile of scrolls, datapad and other documents strewn about on a table before the orb.
Examining several carefully, making certain to neither touch or move the documents, Anguis judged that several were star charts of the known Galaxy, the newer copies being marked with grid-shaped patterns. He had not spent much time learning of the many galactic systems and their placements, but Anguis knew that the marked off region was well within what was known as the 'unknown' region, the same massive section where earth itself was hidden.
The datapad, which flared to life as he waved a hand over its surface, returned to a documentation of the life of Darth Revan, and the great mysteries in the Force that he encountered when he was attempting to conquer the galaxy himself. This information seemed to be correlated with the star charts, from their position on the table, and Anguis could only guess that Veneficus was planning to seek something that the Dark Lord had found before, and was subsequently lost to future generations of Sith.
The other documents were far more interesting to Anguis, and he greedily looked over the small accounts of historic artifacts of the Sith empires, items that had been possessed by the key founders of the sect, Marka Ragnos, Tulak Hord, Adjunta Pall, and Naga Sadow specifically, who all had sizeable tombs build in the Valley of the Dark Lords on Korriban, although Sadow's was not the Sith Lord's final resting place.
Anguis wasn't sure if Veneficus was planning an archeology trip or what, but this evidence assuredly proved that the Sith was still quite busy conjuring plans for the future. Finally examining the blood red stone, Anguis' interest was perked when it flared to a brighter radiance, becoming nearly translucent, and snippets of images started to play in Anguis' mind. Veneficus stood along, surrounded on all sides by dark robed figures, in the midst of a darkened and bleak cemetery, but the Sith Lord held a look of superiority and smugness, but Anguis couldn't hear anything that was occurring to make out exactly the setting of the scene before it changed.
A faraway place, littered with massive tower-like buildings, and lines of flying shuttles and vehicles, swam into his mind, and among them rose a building with five massive spires, where hundreds of thousands of Force users lived and worked. Anguis knew exactly what this place was, and reflexively pulled away from the vision, having no desire to see the temple of the Dark Side's most hated enemies, the Jedi.
There would be time enough for him to view this place in the future, when he was certain that he could successfully conceal himself from their powers, but not yet. Veneficus had most patiently explained the certain death that would befall him, and the rest of them all in fact, if the Jedi learned of the Sith's continued existence before the time was right, and Anguis held no doubt that Veneficus told the truth of this matter.
Contenting himself for knowing a secret part of his master's plans, Anguis departed the place, smiling as the wards reformed themselves when he closed and locked the door to the study. Quickly retrieving his tome, Anguis departed. There would be time enough for him to puzzle out Veneficus' motivations and plans, if they even involved Anguis in the slightest, which he somehow doubted.
For the rest of his uninterrupted evening, Anguis studied from the Alchemical tome, learning of the dark creations and devices that had been created over the millennia by masters of the Dark Side. Some of these interested him greatly, which was why he had sought out the book at this time. Pendants and other talismans were among the simplest of concepts covered in what was defined at 'Sith Sorcery,' or 'Sith Alchemy,' and it was one of these that Anguis sought to create during this year.
Much like how a wand was used to focus a wizards magic, the talisman that Anguis was contemplating would amplify his strength in the Force, drawing upon his own loathing and anger to allow him greater ability and power. In true Sith fashion, Anguis was planning a ritual already, to take place during the vernal equinox, ironically so, despite it being a time where the light was growing in strength, he would spin the ritual into a mocking of the Light Side of the Force, drawing upon the shadows that existed wherever there was light.
The only drawback was Anguis' lack of knowledge of what things were needed for a light-based ritual. Thankfully, the Hogsmeade weekend would be well spent in correcting that lack of knowledge, as well as continuing his coordination of other tasks for both himself and Veneficus. the projects that were being slowly led and filtered by Granger were of utmost importance to the Sith, even above anything regarding the Tournament, which only showed the low amount of threat that such a challenge posed to a true adept of the Force.
Anguis truly craved that power, and with these personal plans, and in learning what Veneficus was already up to, he would slowly close the gap between himself and his master, and prove himself the apprentice that Veneficus required. And in time, Anguis would eventually surpass Veneficus, and rule the Sith himself.
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Veneficus almost decided to remain in the castle during the Hogsmeade weekend trip, but the odd and suspicious looks from Dumbledore drove him from the grounds. Veneficus knew that the wizard learned things that most likely troubled him, hard truths about Veneficus and just what he was capable of, but he still felt that it was an unavoidable outcome in the end of it all.
One did not simply out maneuver Albus Dumbledore forever. The man was too damned observant and patient for his own good. Thankfully, Veneficus knew this, and had already planned for the old fool's downfall, with assistance from Barty Crouch Jr. Not even Lord Millennial was aware of the seeds of doom that his apprentice had planted for the Headmaster of the grand British school.
But this was only the beginning of his manipulations of those close to him. Without his knowledge that he was being controlled, Anguis was working to draw fresh soldiers to their cause, paving the way for the next generation of Dark Adepts, and Veneficus was poised and ready to swoop in when the time was right.
Until that time however, he would allow the little boy pretending to be a Sith play his games, in the end it would only forward Veneficus' own agenda, and in turn focus on luring the other fools that sought to commandeer his life to their end.
Walking through the streets of the little village, Veneficus calmly allowed himself to wander, smugly taking in the sights at a most leisurely pace. Anguis had departed separately, but the Sith Apprentice spotted the Acolyte entering the post office; no doubt off to send his missive to those foreign contacts of his that would bring together Veneficus next selection of Dark Side initiates.
A little further on, out of one of the villages little pubs emerged the announcer of the Tournament, Ludo Bagman, nervously speaking with a small contingent of goblins. It pleased Veneficus to know that despite his personal raid on their bank, that the little creatures had put their affairs back in order and plodded ahead with the wizarding world's money, completely forgetting the goblin Griphook and his focus on the pair of Sith Lords.
Bagman broke into a wide grin when he spotted Veneficus, but the Sith turned and departed swiftly, not having any desire to speak with the bleating fool of a Ministry worker. But sadly, there were little places where he could go unobserved. The next street held a collection of Gryffindors, including Ronald Weasley. Normally, Veneficus wouldn't have cared about the bratty child or his taunts, but the Force warned him that the boy was in a much more unstable mood and with the surrounding witnesses he would most assuredly not wish to resort to putting the Gryffindor in his place yet again.
Sweeping the Force around him, Veneficus attempted to find another exit, but too late, he was spotted by the children, and Weasley decided that poking the slumbering dragon that he knew Veneficus could be compared with was the best outlet for his irritation.
"Oi! If it isn't the slimy Slytherin champion, out to ruin more lives are we?" the boy goaded, striding confidently forward, surrounded by his house-mates.
Veneficus tried, oh how he tried, to resist what he wanted to do, but it was no use. The boy had it coming, and who was he to prevent the destiny from falling upon the simple brat that he alone could unleash. Looking back over his shoulder, Veneficus smiled darkly at Weasley, "Naturally… not that you could stop me…" he prodded, watching the display of emotions flash across the boy's face.
Ronald Weasley, ever the eager tool of Dumbledore or his parents, was so emotionally unstable that it was far too easy to manipulate him, and Veneficus laughed aloud as he slowly walked away. Even without the Force, he knew that the bratty child would not be satisfied without pursuing him now, disgraced in front of his friends as he was.
But there was still a keen and somewhat tactical mind in the boy, as he did not make it apparent that he would do this, but there was no possible way for the Gryffindor to know that Veneficus had already planned this little game out on the fly.
Exiting the village past the hog's head inn at the end of the main street, Veneficus followed his senses until he found a small cave, little more than a cavity in a large cluster of rocks, and waited. Soon enough the gang of Gryffindors, with Ronald in the lead stormed from the village, making their way to his position. Making absolutely certain that they spotted him, Veneficus ducked inside the cave, fading into the shadows and gleefully drawing a single saber hilt from his robes.
The urge to kill them all as they entered the cave was strong, and Veneficus had to physically restrain himself from launching directly into attack, wanting to drag out this long awaited vengeance as much as possible first.
"Where is he Ron?" one of the boys asked, "You promised that he would be here."
Stepping out behind the knot of students, blocking their path to the exit, Veneficus chuckled. "Looking for me?" he asked pleasantly, lapping up with his eyes every look of shock and surprise on the children's faces. "You should know better than this Weasley, I am most unimpressed… It was painfully obvious that this was a trap," Veneficus chided the boy, shaking his head even as he stepped toward them.
The children all glanced around the cave nervously, as though expecting other Slytherins to emerge from the shadows, but when none appeared their confidence returned. "Heh, just like a slimy snake," Ronald said, stepping up to Veneficus, "trying to trick us with words and false bravery, you all alone here, and it's high time we let you know exactly how we feel about you as our Champion."
Veneficus chuckled, lifting one hand toward the boy, who ignored the gesture, more keenly searching for Veneficus' wand, the only weapon he thought the Sith Lord had. When the pulse of telekinetic energy threw him across the cave, the flare of fear in the Force was so sweet that Veneficus actually closed his eyes to relish it. "Dark Wizard!" Weasley shouted, his voice echoing the fear in it around the room.
"Come then, fools," Veneficus said, igniting his blade as the Gryffindors fumbled for their wands. The jets of light that flew at him slowed as Veneficus dipped into the swirling presence of the Force. Blade dancing, he deflected and returned spell after spell, each child screaming as their curses and hexes struck them and their allies rather than their target. Several times Veneficus pulled up short before he fatally attacked a student, forcing himself into the third form of combat, Soresu, and danced among them until only Weasley remained on his feet, all others felled by their own spells, very much alive.
Pointing the deadly beam of energy at Weasley's chest, Veneficus smiled evilly as the boy soiled himself in fright. "You have never, nor ever hoped to become a threat to my power Ronald Weasley, and let this be your final lesson on the matter…"
Lashing out, the brilliant blue-white volts of lightning danced across the boy's body, drawing many screams as the red head thrashed on the floor of the cave, his body convulsing madly as nerve endings were again and again stimulated without his assent or control. Veneficus laughed, letting all his irritation with the whelp pour through his body.
When he finally grew bored of torture, Veneficus ceased the lightning, and stowed his saber away deep in his robe, before drawing his blackthorn wand. With all the children unconscious or rendered helpless in pain and fear, Veneficus worked slowly, walking around the room and carving runes into the walls with his illegal wand.
Chanting in a blissful mixture of ancient earth languages, intermixed with a few key syllables of Sith magic, each of the dozen runes started to glow a vivid red, indicating that they were activated. Stepping quickly to the exit of the cave, Veneficus glanced back at his handiwork. It was magnificent to him. The runes would work as the children recovered, locking their memories to prevent them from discussing it with any other person, even shrouding their injuries and pain by the Force, to all except Dumbledore…
A brilliant, last minute twist, if Veneficus thought so himself. Let the old man see what his precious students were harmed with by his precious hero. If Dumbledore acted at last, made a move against Veneficus at this point, it would make no difference. Not that the Sith Lord expected the old fool to be motivated by this, or any other act thus far until it was altogether too terribly late for him to do a thing about it.
No, Veneficus was starting to see the future with greater and greater clarity with every passing day, and Dumbledore would not move until he was absolutely certain that there was no other option remaining, and the old Headmaster was too fixated on the light sided concepts of mercy and redemption for Veneficus himself. He would only act when he felt that Lord Millennial was in the open and attempt to rid this pathetic world of what Dumbledore felt was the greater darkness.
More the pity, that Veneficus could foresee quite a lot of the remaining year, and the actions that he had to take, and those that were irrelevant. There was next to nothing he could do that would arouse Dumbledore's ire toward him directly at this point, especially with nearly half his eyes set on other visages, and the only one with power to see him for what he was, Alastor Moody, being conveniently impersonated by a servant of Voldemort, and in turn once again serving the Sith themselves.
The situation couldn't have been more perfect. So long as he and Dumbledore were never alone for long periods of time, to prevent the old man from thinking he could directly confront Veneficus, he was safe until the very end.
With that in mind, he confidently returned to the castle, well aware of the strange looks he received from not only his fellow Slytherins, but the staff up at the Head Table during dinner. The Gryffindors had returned, looking far worse for wear than before, not that anyone outside of the Headmaster noticed, and Veneficus could see the gears in the old man's head spinning at max speed to figure out what to do about it, but Veneficus didn't care.
He had many other important future tasks to complete, and the Triwizard Tournament was not counted among them. His future was all but secured, and he would need a plan to prepare the Galaxy for his advent; his rise to power. Everything from the end of the Tournament on must be executed flawlessly, to set the perfect launching point for his next plan, Galactic domination.
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Septin observed the small outpost of a fortress that was haphazardly constructed over the ruins of the old Sith academy. The other Gamorreans from the Sith's usurped clan huddled around him, looking to him as their natural leader, and their great secret weapon to hide until the last possible moment.
He had only just started to pick up their rudimentary language, but it still was only enough to gage intent of their scuffing and snorts, not anything coherent. The large veteran next to him snorted and lightly squealed, clearly asking for orders, and Septin smiled darkly as he saw the light defenses on the outpost ahead.
"Begin the attack, I want that place leveled before dusk," he commanded, and the large veteran bellowed out a war cry, signaling the fifty or so warriors around him to charge into battle. As they rampaged across the open plains toward the line of rocks and trees that shrouded the village, Septin could see warriors from the much smaller clan stumble out of their tents, many grasping weapons in a state of disarray and surprise.
This battle was quite unlike anything that the Gamorreans would normally have expected, as they preferred a much more traditional army meeting another army style of warfare, and while raids on villages like this were common, there was never a driven purpose to utterly destroy the other, nor were the raiders ever in these numbers.
Eager to join in the bloodshed himself, Septin unclipped his weapons, and he charged into the battlefield, surrounded by the largest and strongest of the warrior in his command, who respected and feared him like any warlord of their own race. It was a beautiful thing really. The Gamorreans were a very simple race, power and prestige were gained by strength, and it did not matter if you were one of their own or not. If you had strength and power, respect came as its natural due.
It explained a lot why the greatest warriors of the Sith empires were trained here, on this warlike world. Septin darted up to the first hulking warrior from the opposing tribe, igniting both blades and cleaving the pig-man where he stood, relishing the moment when his blades met the tough hide and carved it in ribbons. That act alone sent up a roar of approval from his warriors, and thus rallied, they pressed further into the village, beating and slaying every fighter that the smaller clan had to offer, while sows and young were spared, as was the custom of the Gamorreans.
Soon enough, the clan's warlord appeared, flanked much like Septin by the veterans and elite warriors that they had, and bellowing a war cry, they met Septin and his guards head on. Septin admired that the brute was brave, or at least very foolish, to charge an unknown enemy with weapons beyond his understanding, but for the lack of intelligence the Warlord made up for it in physical strength, plowing through several of Septin's warriors like a capital ship through an asteroid field.
Roaring in rage, Septin threw himself at the warlord, slashed and stabbing with his sabers. The massive Gamorrean's axe had to have been made of some special material, as it managed to deflect Septin's blades for a time, and Septin acknowledged that this must be why the clan had been so long undisturbed. However, the craftsmanship was poor at best, and shattered after several clashes with Septin's lightsabers. Dropping to his knees, Septin amputated one of the brute's legs, knocking the Gamorrean to the ground, and skewering the warlord through the heart.
Looking up and around him, Septin saw the roaring approval of his warriors, and the stunned fear of the other clan. "This clan, its lands, possessions and people are ours now!" Septin cried in a loud voice, raising his sabers high.
Turning to a nearby warrior, one that he knew he could trust to carry out his orders, Septin arranged for the entire conquered clan to be taken back to their fortress, and forced to join their clan. Meanwhile, he himself searched for the entrance to the ruins of the Academy. A large cave network opened up just behind the village, partially humming with Force energies.
Septin pulled from his belt a small beacon, which would pinpoint the location for when they returned to finish their mission on this world, and was about to turn to leave, when the Force signaled a warning. Turning back to the cave, Septin was amazed to find a Gamorrean emerging from within, oddly dressed for one of the porcupine race in black robes that hung oddly from its overlarge frame. What was so disturbing was not the garb, but the collection of skulls along the creature's belt and adorning his shoulders, along with the massive lightsaber hilt clutched in its hand.
"Troublesome whelp, I'll teach you to interfere!" the Gamorrean said angrily in near perfect basic, before igniting its massive weapon and charging.
Where once before, Septin would have dodged or attempted to out maneuver the larger foe, he instead smiled, grateful to the Force for a worthy adversary, and charged, blades high to meet the Gamorrean Force adept head on. How or where this creature came to be, he did not know nor care, and with battle pounding in his ears, he swung with all the strength his body and mechanical arm could bear.
The brute was not inept with the saber, although he did try to wield it more as a smashing club than what it was, which gave Septin somewhat of an advantage in swiftness, however it was clear that this Gamorrean beast was not some cultish shaman, toying with things it knew nothing about, but rather was indeed a Force adept. Septin couldn't recall ever hearing about a Gamorrean being capable of wielding the Force, but he had seen stranger things in his short lifetime, so why not.
Ducking and dodging around the oaf as it over swung its weapon, Septin cautiously debated whether to spare the creature, if it's life could be of any use to the Sith, but quickly changed his mind. This thing was nothing more than a ravaging beast, some relic of the older centuries that had leaked into their time, preserved on old knowledge that, judging from the style languished from the time of the great wars, which had ended nearly a hundred year ago.
The Gamorrean didn't try to speak again, so intent was it on attempting to cleave Septin in two, but eventually Septin managed to out maneuver it completely and score a piercing strike, splitting the skull on its left shoulder and rendering the limb useless.
But, if anything, this seemed to drive the Gamorrean Force user into a greater rage. It rammed into Septin, throwing him back bodily from the caves and into an abandoned building. Crashing through the weakened structure, Septin landed hard, but used the pain to fuel his rage and he flipped himself back to a standing position.
He had little time to ready himself, before the Gamorrean darksider crashed through the wall, sweat and blood pouring down its body, creating a disturbing image. But Septin was unaffected, and lashed out with the Force, telekinetically throwing the brute back out the way it entered, easily breaking through its rudimentary Force shield.
Leaping through the air, Septin landed heavily on the Gamorrean's sword arm, relishing the resounding snap at the remaining limb broke cleanly under his weight. The beast, defeated but unwilling to admit the fact, thrashed wildly, screaming in the agony that it caused to move its arms. Septin normally would have let the beast flail uselessly, but he had a schedule to keep, and the sooner they got back to the fortress and Lady Ocraadi, the sooner they could leave this world and return to Dromund Kaas, where he could train more on his own and not deal with these lesser life forms.
A quick flick of the wrist, and the Force using Gamorrean was separated from its grisly head. The guardian of the Academy destroyed, Septin claiming its massive lightsaber as a trophy and proof that he had located the ruins, and Septin turned back to the entrance of the village where his forces waited for him.
Ocraadi Nuhok would be pleased.
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Severus sighed inwardly as he walked toward the Slytherin table Sunday morning. He was duty bound because of the Tournament to deliver information to their school champion, regarding his required attendance to a small gathering at the Quidditch pitch to learn of the Third Task, but he was not going to enjoy it.
Lately, something drastically had changed surround Harry Potter. Albus was growing worried, but all Severus could see was that the boy seemed to be up to something, not enough to conceal it from all but just sneakily enough that it wasn't obvious. Normally, with any other student Severus would nip the issue in the bud immediately, but with Potter it was a chancy game to play.
Ever since the previous outburst nearly two years ago about the Halloween ritual, Severus had been more than hesitant to actually confront the boy about his doings, so long as they didn't interfere with Severus himself, but for some reason he could not place, he was starting to feel almost drawn to the boy, noticing things that he normally would have ignored, like when the boy would issue orders to his close circle of friends from across the Great Hall.
It was rather reminiscent of the Dark Lord, and the ways that he spread his instructions via the Dark Mark, but more simplistic. This fact was why he was here, shepherding the champions as they went to the Quidditch field. Only, once they arrived they found out that it wasn't so much of a field any longer. Small hedge walls were growing in twisting directions across the pitch, marring the smooth surface.
"Hello there!" called a sickeningly cheery voice as they arrived.
Severus grimaced as Ludo Bagman waved them over to where he was standing in the middle of the hedge-lined field. The other school champions were already present. Severus hung back slightly as Potter approached to receive his instructions regarding the task, although with how loud and annoying Bagman was he could still hear every word.
"Well, what d'you think?" Bagman said, happily spreading his arms wide to show off the hedges to Potter, who all but ignored the man, "growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high. Now, don't worry," he added with a grin, "you'll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over!"
It was clear to Severus that Potter didn't care, but Bagman was as oblivious as ever as he pressed on, "Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"
None of the students spoke for a moment. Severus thought it was because they were stunned at the man's idiocy to think they couldn't guess, but finally Krum took the bait. "Maze," he grunted, sounding as bored as Severus felt.
"That's right," Bagman said brightly, and Severus rolled his eyes as the man's idiocy, "a maze. The Third Task really very straightforward. The Tri-wizard cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."
"Or, in other words, the previous tasks were meaningless and the first one to reach the cup here will win…" Potter said snidely. Severus had to agree, as the system was indeed flawed and the boy was more than correct in calling out the inconstancy, but Bagman just shrugged sheepishly and ignored the question.
"Hagrid is providing a number of creatures to serve as obstacles, as well as several spells that will need to be broken… that sort of thing. Now, the champion who is leading in points will get a head start into the maze." Bagman nodded at Potter, "Then Mr. Krum will enter, and finally Miss Delacour. But you will all have a fighting chance, depending on how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?"
Severus didn't need Legilimency to know what was running through all three children's minds. It most certainly didn't sound like fun.
"Very well… if you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, as it's quite a bit chilly." Bagman said at last, and they all turned to leave. His duty thankfully complete, Severus turned and left without a second glance back at Potter. He had completed what Albus had requested, and would now discharge those obligations with a full report of what the task entailed, and that Potter had attended.
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Veneficus watched as Snape left without a word. It was becoming all too easy to manipulate Dumbledore's lackeys. He still remembered the sting of his first failure to wield the Force on Severus Snape, which had taught him not to underestimate the sneaky Potions Master. The man might even be worth trying to tempt to their way of thinking. The man was a servant of Voldemort, so his giving over to darkness had happened once already, and it became only easier after that.
He himself was planning on returning to the castle as well, but something drew his attention from the forest, a familiar presence that he felt he ought to investigate. No one questioned him as he detached from the rear of the precession and darted toward the trees. Homing in direction of the familiar aura, Veneficus wasn't surprised to find the false Alastor Moody stomping around well past the Beauxbatons carriage.
"My Lord," the man said gruffly, "what brings you out here at this hour?"
"I could very well as you the same question, Crouch…" Veneficus replied, smirking with repressed amusement. The man's almost dog-like loyalty to their cause was something one would normally never hope to find in a servant, let alone one stolen from an enemy.
"The Dark Lord has sent a warning," Crouch said, looking around wildly with Moody's magical eye, "That my father escaped from his enchantments and is making his way here, presumably to try and make contact with Dumbledore, and tell him everything of the Dark Lord's plans."
"Is he now…" Veneficus said slowly, debating his options of allowing the man to actually spoil Voldemort's plots. No, no it wouldn't do in the slightest. "He must not be allowed to meet with the old man," he stated, to which Crouch nodded in obedience. "As you command my Lord."
"We must have another little chat soon, about the specifics of the Third Task and what dear old Voldemort has in store for me, how exactly he intends to transport me to himself, as well as what I want you to do once that happens."
"Yes, My Lord, whenever is most convenient for you, naturally…" Crouch said with a low bow, before stomping off to locate his wayward father. Veneficus left the man to it, most focused on how he must prepare to crush his competition, both in and after the Tournament.