Chapter 34 – Elicio Hostium
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Previously on The Forgiven:
Grimm, Liar, and Norse head into the Forbidden Forest to shadow Harry Potter, who they are using as bait to draw out Voldemort.
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"I swear, if Malfoy keeps focking around, I might just curse him and blame it on Voldemort."
"Every bit the twat his father is, isn't he? Do you think daddy was proud of his first words, or his first pretentious snivel?"
Trailing behind Harry Potter, Malfoy, and Fang, as they made their way through the Forbidden Forest, were the members of the Forgiven. Grimm following in her fox form, while trying to remain as close as possible without detection. Norse, Liar, and Firenze behind her.
"Should I, perhaps, eliminate the contemptuous child?" the Centaur proposed awkwardly.
"No, Firenze. We merely delve ourselves in senseless banter to stave off the bouts of boredom and nerves. Think nothing of it."
"Yeah, but just in case Malfoy is a midget Death Eater after Potter too. If he does anything strange, put an arrow between his eyes!"
"Grimm!"
"I'm only half kidding. The other half is me not putting it past Voldemort to prepare something like that."
"Even so…"
The Forgiven continued to follow the two boys and dog into the next hour.
An eerie silence pervaded the evening woods. It was not unusual for the Forbidden Forest to be quieter at night. On the contrary, the place teemed with life and all manner of magical creature; many of the sort nocturnal. But the hush of tonight's air was especially distilling. It was as if the Forest itself was giving something a wide berth, undaring to tread remotely close to some shadow sinister.
"A presence wanders this night," Firenze thought to them.
"You can sense Voldemort?" Grimm asked.
"No….this is something else...Something that does not belong here. Do none of you feel it?"
"I've got nothing. Don't smell anything out of place either. Norse? Liar?"
"Nothing on my end, boss."
"I sense nothing amiss, but Firenze is more attuned to the nature of the Forest. I believe it wise to heed his word."
"Agreed," Grimm paused. "This isn't some Divination thing, is it?"
"No," Firenze answered. "The presence is….unnatural to the Forest. No, it is more than that."
"How so?"
"It breathes. It is a 'creature' and it breathes, but it is not possessing of what makes a life, a life."
"Firenze?"
"There are two of them. They breathe and breathe, but I cannot understand them."
"What?"
"It draws closer. It's existence is all wrong, intangible, impossible."
"Firen—"
"There is only…"
The Centaur could see the vapored breath of his next word.
"…..Cold."
At that moment, all of the Forgiven exhaled simultaneously and saw mist float before their eyes. Electricity shot across their Legilimens network as their thoughts came to the same conclusion.
The feeling could only be one thing.
If that wasn't enough, Grimm picked up on a new scent. It was the smell of a dying creature, its blood fresh in the air.
The Forgiven and Firenze snapped into action, like runners from a gunshot.
In the same moment, Harry Potter came upon a shade dining on the dead carcass of a unicorn.
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"Firenze! Get Potter to safety!" Grimm yelled through her telepathy.
The Centaur needed no instruction.
With all the strength of his lower body, Firenze leapt to Potter's defense, standing himself between the boy and Voldemort. He kicked hard with his front hooves and fired an arrow into the attacking shade.
The creature's black clothes swallowed the projectile and fell back, seemingly driven off.
Moving through the surrounding trees were Grimm, Liar, and Norse. The three began in desperate pursuit of Voldemort, who seemed to glide across the ground with ease. Out of the Forgiven, only Grimm kept decent pace with her fox form. The other two, beginning to fall behind.
"Norse and I will take to the air," Liar's voice resounded in Grimm's head. "We'll try to cut him off ahead."
"Be careful! Firenze said there were two of them, but we should expect more!"
"Oh, wonderful happy thoughts."
Liar and Norse mounted their brooms and ascended above the treetops. Still hard on her dead run, Grimm harried after Voldemort below. Her eyes never blinking, never daring to let him slip from her sight. Animal instinct took over, and all the fox focused on was capturing her prey.
Even in lieu of the two dark figures that escorted their master's side.
The Forgiven were prepared for an ambush. They dangled obvious bait for Voldemort, and they knew he would not appear without taking proper precautions—but even this was outside their wildest predictions.
Two Dementors flew on the left and right of Voldemort. Their dark, ethereal cloaks flapped silently in the wind. Thin, almost skeleton-like frames. A hollow wheeze escaped from under their hoods, and the world cringed away from the cold. Voldemort himself, seemed to slow in their presence.
The reaction did not pass Grimm's notice. She saw the Dementors weaken him. Although, they may not have meant to, they siphoned traces of their master's already fragmenting soul.
Biting chills invaded the woods and began to hamper Grimm's progress as well. She was more vulnerable than most to the effects of Dementors. More susceptible to the growing darkness around her. The distant sounds of cries and tragedy echoed closer and closer as the pursuit went on.
Where are Liar and Norse?
Were there Dementors in the sky too?
How long have I been running?
Her skin pricked with frost and her bones felt like ice. The sweat beating down her, drew cold trails across her body.
No. I can't be sweating. I'm—
Grimm gave a head shudder, trying to bring her senses to bear. She was still in her fox form, so she had no sweat glands. The Dementor's effects had her hallucinating for a split second. When she looked ahead of her, Voldemort was widening the distance.
I need to end this, now.
Norse and Liar might not make it in time, before I lose them.
He's vulnerable to the Dementors.
With my Origin Magic, I can take him down alone!
Her top priority was putting an immediate stop to Voldemort's flight. She would have a narrow window to do this. One spell, executed with needle point precision. There would be no time for a second chance, if she missed.
With a patience she only possessed because of Moody's rigorous training, the Forgiven witch held back. She couldn't risk the spell getting caught on a tree or the smallest branch. If the spell hit one of the Dementors instead, Voldemort would get away. Grimm needed to wait for the right moment where she had enough clear sight of him.
Finally, the moment came to pass. They reached a section that was fairly clear of foliage. Grimm changed from her Animagus form mid-step and brandished her wand. Her eyes burned into the back of Voldemort's cape.
With wordless incantation, she casted.
Gladii Affigo!
The wind and space around her folded into invisible swords. They flew like spears, hefted at full tilt. The air whistled as the blades traversed the distance and pierced into Voldemort's body. The magic sunk through and impaled him onto the nearest tree.
Blood dripped down the translucent weapons, followed by a most unholy scream.
The cry brought a satisfied smile to Grimm's lips.
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The body pinned to the tree writhed and howled.
Grimm could hardly help, but laugh a little at how pathetic the shade now seemed.
Is this really Voldemort?
"GET HER, YOU FOOLS!" the man howled.
Wait! That voice…
"Quirrell?!"
But before she could question it further, the two Dementors soared towards her like hungry shadows.
The edges of Grimm's vision clouded. Distant screams and cries pierced her ears from afar. Her breath went bated as rapid puffs of air escaped into the cold atmosphere. But like a masterful swordsman, the witch arced her wand towards the oncoming foes; against the protests of her mind. Her body overwrote any conscious command. Now, she only needed to speak the words.
"Expecto PATRONUM!"
A small, white cloud of vapor puffed from the wand. It was a pitiful wisp of a thing that could fit in the palm of a hand. Only a faint gleam of silver held within it.
Grimm looked on in shock at the pathetic patronus.
"What the fo—"
The Dementors were on her. They snuffed the small bit of patronus she was able to produce.
Come on, you idiot! This isn't the time to lose your nerve!
Grimm badgered herself and retreated back a few paces. Trained footwork saved her from falling backward, like practiced fencer. A few seconds earned to recollect.
She concentrated on her memories, searching for one to produce a full patronus charm.
I hate happy memories…
The thought killed her concentration.
She grasped for memories of Tonks, of her parents, of anything she had used as a catalyst for the spell in the past.
But the memories hurt. She shunned them, and they shunned her in return. They were only making things worse.
Her consciousness was fading. The screams were getting louder. She could feel tears running down and streaking her lips.
"Expecto….Patron…us…"
Nothing.
One of the Dementors stepped forward and grabbed her by the throat. Its mouth made a meal of Grimm's memories and emotions. Pulling her face closer and closer to its hood.
She could feel the Dementor's Kiss coming. Unable to see through her tears and dimming vision, she still knew. The dark creature rattled with an unnerving rhythm. Its hands clutched tighter around the vessel of its delicious soul.
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Fock this.
Grimm's fingers still wrapped around her wand in a death grip, pointed its end at the Dementor's stomach.
"CRUCIO!"
Pain wracked her mind, but she felt the shadow entity drop her from its grasp. She massaged her neck and gave a labored cough, as her feet touched the ground.
Grimm backed away and aimed for the second approaching Dementor.
"Crucio!"
Energies of blue and black linked the apparition to her wand.
The spell fluctuated with abnormality. No concrete idea of torture existed in the aberration's mind. It felt suffering, but not pain per se. As a result, the Cruciatus Curse succeeded in stunning it, but not much else.
Grimm concentrated on conjuring a death wish for the Dementors. To hate, to kill, to end; she fed into those vicious thoughts.
"Avada…"
Green sparked from the end of her wand and fizzled. The instrument cracked and splintered into ash in her hands.
Grimm fell to the ground. The witch's knees finally giving out.
In her semi-hallucinated state, she glared into the "face" of the descending Dementors. She hated them so much. Loathed them with everything she could. But not because of what they are, or what they did.
It was because she understood them all too well. The hunger of wanting the light, only to taint it. To drag others into one's own misery. To feed on another's happiness, and make it their own.
It was a sick, perverse desire, she also possessed.
With her last thread of consciousness, she clenched the part of the cloak above her heart. The tattoo branded underneath glowed to her summons. It was her final resort. Her last play at overcoming the Dementors and her secret weapon against Voldemort.
Grimm uttered a soft incantation to activate her Origin Magic.
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"Elicio Hostium."
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Past traumas flowed forth like a broken dam. Her most scarred memories bled like freshly cut wounds. The sanity she gripped on to stave off the Dementors was now gone. Grimm no longer heard the screams coming in—instead, they were breaking out.
Dark clouds swelled from her mouth. They traveled down her body like brushstrokes of black ink. Cloth tied around her eyes, robbing her of her sight. Stokes of shadow folded over the witch's head to weave her a corporeal hood. Her visage wrapped in the surging veil until nothing of her was clear.
Grimm rose to her feet and stood, mirrored with the Dementors in front of her. The only thing differentiating them was their height.
Her Origin Magic lent her temporary form to those of the vilest creatures of the earth. The spell required the concentration of her darkest memories. To bring them to life with a vividness only further fueled by the presence of the Dementors.
It was everything the patronus charm was not. Its direct opposite.
The curse reflected Grimm's nature at its most basic. She devoured the life of those around her with a craving that would never be satiated.
This was the witch's ace against Voldemort, whose soul was fragile to a Dementor's touch.
Normally, Grimm only used this magic to deliver punishment or interrogation. Occasions were few to use it. This one was an extremely rare instance indeed.
Her hands lunged at the Dementors before her, threatening to devour them, but they glided away with a fearful haste. They recognized the threat she posed and wanted nothing of the experience they had inflicted on countless others.
Grimm's mind struggled to remember her purpose. She could not see through the cloth binding her eyes, but smelled—felt the life of others and their delicious emotions. Her world turned to one divided by black and white; defined only by what she could eat and what she could not. Guided by hunger and little else, she charged one of the Dementors again, more forcefully this time.
The phantom wormed in her grasp, trying to break free. Grimm's mouth pried open, larger than her jaw should have allowed. And then, chomped down into her quarry, ripping through morsel after morsel.
Devour…
DevoUr…
DeVOuR…
A second Dementor limped dead and eaten in her hands. She dropped the husk without the slightest ceremony, like a pile of unwanted rags. Grimm turned to Professor Quirrell.
In the teacher's body, Voldemort raged. He took control of the host and forced Quirrell to shed a large portion of his body.
The sounds of fabric and flesh could be heard ripping. But he was free from the magic affixing him to the tree.
With great pains, the parasite and its host made their desperate attempt to escape.
Grimm's presence drained them of their life and stamina, but Voldemort and Quirrell pressed on.
Just when it seemed the witch's girth was about to consume them, it stopped. The "Dementor's" arms settled to its sides in a lifeless sort of way. Its hood bent down, indicating her face was directed to the ground.
Unbothered by this strange turn of events, Quirrell limped hurriedly into the forest….
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Blood trickled from Liar's head and down his nose. Across from him, taking cover behind a different tree, was Norse.
Not long after they took flight, were they attacked by giant, summoned birds. Troll Garden's magi had no trouble commanding their servants against the Forgiven, who flew under the bright moon and without any sort of cover.
Liar's broom was damaged following the assault and forced to land. Norse following after.
As soon as they touched ground, spells and primitive weapons the size of street poles flew at the them from the shadows. The mercenaries and their trolls fought hard to keep the pair at bay, preventing them from reuniting with their leader. Precious time wasted with no hope of reprise.
While entrenched for what seemed like an eternity, the attacks suddenly ceased.
Caution warned Norse and Liar of the abrupt stop in the battle. The two didn't leave their cover for some time, only when they safely knew they were no longer in danger. An uncomfortable feeling set in the pits of their stomachs.
"Why would they suddenly retreat? Could Voldemort have evaded Grimm in the time we were stalled?"
"I can't imagine why else. Shite! I'm worried about Grimm."
"As am I. Let us make haste. Voldemort's time will come, but it will not be tonight."
"I'll move on foot and you cover the air?"
Norse nodded and mounted her broom.
The two scoured the Forbidden Forest, backtracking and then following the path of Grimm's pursuit. Eventually, finding themselves at the site of their leader's and Voldemort's confrontation.
To their surprise, they found Firenze standing nearby in a state of wary confusion. When Norse and Liar drew closer, they saw the source of the Centaur's apprehension.
It was a Dementor, kneeling on the ground, next to the torn shreds of what could only be the remains of two other Dementors. The hooded creature showed no sign of life or recognition. Like it were trapped in some sort of trance, it "stared" in a complete daze.
Norse brought her hands to her mouth.
"It's Grimm."
"Her Origin Magic….It's never done this before."
"That being is Grimm?" Firenze asked in disbelief.
"We must be careful. Norse, on the mark."
Norse nodded and lifted her wand with a motion that matched Liar's.
"Expecto Patronum."
"Expecto Patronum."
A silvery lizard and penguin leapt from the two's wands and flew towards Grimm with elegant movement. The patronuses circled the dark one with nursing care. After a time passed, they nuzzled up to the witch and started dissipating the black vestments garbing her.
The moment Grimm's Origin Magic was no longer present, Norse and Liar rushed down to her. Still kneeling and deathly still, the two embraced her from each side. Their leader's body felt cold in their arms. Her breathing was shallow and her eyes refused to open.
"Grimm! GRIMM!"
While Liar shouted, Norse shook her, trying to rouse her from her sleep.
"Is she wounded in some way? Cursed?"
The wizard checked her over once and then again; running his wand across her body, before vigorously shaking his head.
"There's nothing. I don't understand. On your feet, boss. There's nothing wrong with you. There's nothing wrong, so wake the fock up!" Liar started yelling again.
But the witch remained still.
The wizard casted Legilimency.
"Something's wrong. Something is very, seriously wrong."
Norse gave Grimm's cheek a few short slaps.
Still no response.
"Grimm! WAKE UP! GRIMM!"