Chapter 11:
Death's Flag
Pansy
The trip to Parkinson Manor was too short for my liking, the blurring landscape was a calming influence. One I would need in the coming days.
I stepped off the bus and took in my surroundings. Parkinson Manor was situated in the middle of small forest, well the muggles thought it was small in actuality it was over two full square miles. The forest was once a peaceful place, one in which a child could safely play with no fear. That was before Mother had taken residence.
Long gone now, but her presence still lingered, tainting the land. Making it dangerous for even a fully trained wizard to explore. There was nothing living to be found in these woods, the once thriving forest population had either left, died or worse.
Father, nearly unhinged from his time with Mother, had had to completely take down the wards and purify the ward stones before we could even leave the grounds immediately surrounding the manor. Given that before then the wards had stood unmolested for nearly seven generations and that he had to care for me, only a few minutes old at the time, the process was difficult in the extreme. Even then, had he not paid Gringotts to make a safe passage from the Manor to the road we may well still be trapped there.
I had made my way up the perfectly preserved cobble stone path that connected the manor to the rest of the world. Taking special note of the marble columns that kept the forest from reclaiming the path. As always they were in mint condition, say what you will about Gringotts goblins but they built well and they always kept their word.
I sighed, I was stalling. I made sure my suppressers were in working order before I stepped through the ward line. If they had stopped working, even for a second at any time during my visit and Mother's blood came to the fore, the wards would kill me, as surely as the day dawns. They were, thankfully, in perfect working order.
Parkinson Manor was, in spite of the trials it had withstood, still a sight to behold. It was a made of a reddish brown brick and had a blue trim that went together in manner most pleasing to the eye. None of this held my attention though as I made my way inside, no what held my interest was the darkened hall. There was always light shining in Parkinson Manor, always. So why were none of the torches lit?
I found my answer as I entered. Father was spiraled on the floor between the dining room and the front room. An intense feeling of fear lingered about him. Rushing over I sighed in relief when I saw his chest moving.
"Trammy." I called, when the house-elf appeared I continued. "Why are fires out and why is Father not in his bed?" Father never slept at night, he always said evil came out at night and he would not be caught sleeping should it make an appearance. He should still be in bed not comatose on the floor.
Trammy rung her hands nervously, her bulbous eyes wide in apprehension. "Master had one of his fits, he did. Made Trammy put out fires and leave. Oh, Trammy is sorry mistress, Trammy wanted to help master but he made me leave. Trammy is so sorry!"
I repressed my anger at her, if Father had given her an order she had no choice but to follow it and I could feel her worried-anxiety. If she could have helped she would have. "It's ok Trammy, just put father in bed and make some soup." Trammy nodded snapping her fingers and disappeared along with Father.
I took a moment to compose myself before making my way to Fathers room. He was sleeping on his canopy bed, it made him look so small. I sat in a chair by the bed, and watched him for a while. Reaching out I brushed a bit of hair from his face before leaning back in my chair and taking in the room.
The bed took up much of the room, leaving little room for anything else and save for my chair and a bed side table it was the only piece of furniture in the room. The rest of the room, the floor, walls and ceiling were covered in wards. Each of them hand carved by Father in his moments of sanity.
The only picture in the room was one of Grandmother and Father just after he graduated from Hogwarts. He looked so happy in the photos, so vibrant. He held himself as if he were ready to take on the world. To make his mark and overcome any obstacles in his way. Comparing Father to the man in the photos I could hardly see a resemblance.
The man before me was gaunt, and sickly. He looked as if he were near his fourth century, as opposed to the forty years he actually lived. I grit my teeth, if it hadn't been for that bastard of a dark lord, Father would still be healthy. He would still be happy and he…
"Careful that's an antique, my great-grandfather made that for great-grandmother as a present." Father said softly. Concern-worry-love and buried so deeply I almost missed it, fear. I came back to myself and saw that I had been gripping the armrests so hard I had left hand prints in the wood.
Blushing I cast the repairing charm on the chair. "Sorry, Father."
He laughed, a low rasping thing. "It's quite alright."
"Father?"
"Yes, Pansy?" He asked.
"Why were you out of bed?" I didn't want to ask. He hated it when I mentioned his episodes, but if he was sleepwalking again it meant I would have to call a healer.
Father smiled. "I wanted to greet you first thing when you got home." He coughed, wheezing slightly but thankfully it passed quickly. I handed him his water, and set it back on the table once he had had his fill. "It seems I should have waited for you to come see me instead." Sadness-regret-mild resentment.
I didn't let his emotions bother me, I had a lot of practice at placing what they meant. The sadness-regret was at his inability to greet me properly and the resentment that was aimed at the world in general, not at me. Or at least not all of it was aimed at me.
I leaned forward and gave him a hug. "I'm happy to see you, no matter where it is."
He patted me on the back, after sat back in my chair he continued. "How has your time at Hogwarts treated you?" Curiosity.
I smiled happily. "It's been fun, I've made loads of useful contacts." Contacts were the bread and butter of every Slytherin. You couldn't accomplish your ambitions without them, it wasn't what you knew it was who you knew.
"Any friends?" Anticipation-worry.
"Yes two, the-girl-who-lived and her muggle born friend Hermione Granger." I felt his reaction before he spoke.
Anger-humiliation-disgust. "The-girl-who, you made friends with our lord's enemy!"
"Your lord, not mine." Not after what he did to you.
His anger was white hot after that comment but drained away in the face of another coughing fit. After I helped him drink some more water he spoke. "I know why you're angry with him but my health is not his fault, it's her fault." Regret-fear.
"She wouldn't have been able to get you if it hadn't been for him!" I shouted, this wasn't the first time we had had this argument and I doubted it would be the last. In spite of everything he was still loyal to that monster and I would never forgive him for what he did to my father.
He sighed and changed the subject. "Do you at least think she will be useful when the time comes?" At my nod I felt his sharp relief. I explained our misadventure with the troll. "She froze the troll while it was in the lake? Amazing!" He shook his head in wonder.
I nodded. "He was completely frozen and most of the lake surrounding him was turned into solid ice." I was still impressed with Alex's spell. Water, practically moving water as in lakes or rivers, grounded magic draining it away before most spells could be completed. To freeze the troll and that much of the lake with the water draining away her magic as she cast it, and as a first year, was incredible. Most importantly, at least as far a father was concerned, was that it meant that Alex might just be strong enough to help me when Mother's blood fully manifested.
It could be argued that I was using Alex for her potential use to me, and that would be true but it wouldn't be the whole truth. I had need of her and she would be there for me, even just knowing her for such a short time I knew she would stand by her friends and when the time came that she would need my help I would be there for her. After all, that is what friends do.
"Potter I can understand, but a mud-muggle born?" Distaste colored his tone.
I rolled my eyes, "They were a package deal, and Potter had already befriended Granger. Besides the girl devoured books like most people do air. She will be useful when the time comes." I half expected Grainger to be better read than Dumbledore by the time she finished Hogwarts, at least if we kept using the Room's library.
Father nodded in surrender, trusting my judgment. "I hope you've been keeping up with your training."
I frowned at him. "Of course I've been keeping up. I know how important it is."
"Good, because tomorrow you're going to show me."
"Father you're in no condition to be out of bed. Let alone training me!"
Determination-glee? "I won't be training you, the house-elves will." That explained the glee. Training with father was trying enough, he may not be able to move much but he had set the dueling room up to challenge the best fighters the Death Eaters had to offer, and he'd improved it since then. But training with the elves, Trammy Tilda and Lomer, was an exercise in futility. They were too fast to hit, always popping up out of nowhere and hitting me when I least expected it.
My smile was more of a grimace when I responded. "Joy."
Father laughed softly, his joy shining bright. At least one of us would enjoy tomorrow.
888
Alex
I was frozen, staring at where the invisibility cloak had landed. I held myself still for a long moment, but when nothing happened I slowly relaxed. Keeping an eye on the bed I made my way over the closet and grabbed a hanger. I made my way back to the bed and started poking the part of the bed where the invisibility cloak had landed. Before my eyes part of the hanger disappeared.
Well I guess that answers that, it is an invisibility cloak and judging by the note, it's the invisibility cloak.
"But that's impossible, isn't it?" Every time I watch a movie or read a book where someone says 'that's impossible', even though the supposedly impossible thing is in fact happening right in front of them, it would annoy the hell out of me. Now I knew how they felt, this should be impossible.
I had taken Hermione's advice and tried to research the ritual that mom had done. Even though I couldn't find anything on that ritual in particular I had found information on rituals that resembled it. Specifically sacrificial rituals, in them the person would barter with a spirit of power, a god or demon, and in exchange for something, sometimes blood, sometimes your first born child or a service the spirit would grant you a boon.
The problem with bargaining with anything supernatural is that they were inevitably older and more powerful than you and by summoning them they knew you were desperate. They knew how to work a deal so that they got a better agreement than you. The most well-known deals of this type were with the Fay, but it could be with anything powerful and nonhuman. Even if the ritual mom performed didn't actually summon anything that I could see, it was clear that she was sacrificing the cloak for something.
The invisibility cloak, as one of the Deathly Hollows, would be a prize well worth the protection of a mortal child. The problem with that theory is that there's no way that any entity would simply give up the cloak. Not unless they thought they could get something even better out of the deal. Hence my caution.
When prodding the cloak failed to cause any response I pulled the hanger back and thought for a moment. If this was the cloak, and evidence was pointing in that direction, why would it be returned to me? I read the card again.
I Return to you that which is rightfully yours.
Maybe they didn't have a choice? If the cloak really did belong to me, maybe they, whoever they is, had to give it to me. Perhaps there was a time limit to how long they could have it? A clause that mom put in? A lot of powerful entities were bound by, or at least highly valued, their word and would keep to any bargain they made.
I poked the cloak again, no response. Well no choice now, the only way to find out if this was what I thought it was, was to sense it. I was hesitant to try though, if this wasn't the cloak or if it was, it might overwhelm me like the horcruxe. The last thing I needed was Aunt Petunia coming in and finding me shaking on the floor empting my stomach.
But, unless I wanted to use the portkey to bring it to Dumbledore's office and let him deal with it, I didn't have much choice. I gave serious consideration to doing just that, but eventually I decided to just bite the bullet and try and sense it. When it came down to it I just didn't trust Dumbledore enough to go to him for anything less than imminent danger to my, or my families, life.
Breath. Focus. Sense.
The wards around the house pulsed with power, not the roaring avalanche of strength of Hogwarts, but a focused sense anticipation and hunger. Ready, willing and able to tear apart anything that threatened me. I smiled, feeling more at ease as the wards seemed to curl around me. Anything that made it past them was unlikely to be a threat to me.
I pushed through the warm feeling of the wards, and tried to sense the cloak. I reached out and felt nothing. I frowned, and strained my sense trying to get something.
In my necklace I felt my broom, wind and competition woven into its very being. On my desk I felt the knives that Pansy had given me, bound by blood their loyalty was mine. Their connection to me was obvious to my senses, three slender strings of magic had them attached to me. In my closet I felt my Hogwarts robes and their sizing charms, but I couldn't feel the cloak at all.
I opened my eyes slightly, holding on to my current state of mind, and sat on the bed. Almost, but not quite, touching the cloak. Still nothing. I pushed back my frustration, it would only make it harder to sense.
I came back to myself and frowned. After using the hanger to confirm that the cloak was still there, I went over to the desk and wrote a quick note explaining the situation to Aunt Petunia telling her to get Dumbledore if something happened to me. With that done, I centered myself and…
Breath. Focus. Sense.
I reached out and physically touched the cloak.
I knew I had made a mistake as soon as I touched it.
DEATH.
I fell onto the bed, and watched in horror as the cloak slithered up my arm. Inch after inch, my arm disappeared. Almost like it was swallowing me a bit at a time. I tried to move but my body seemed paralyzed. I wanted to scream, but couldn't. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't and when it reached my head I wanted someone to save me, but no one came.
Beat.
It sounds crazy, but it took a while for me to realize I wasn't dead. When I finally calmed down enough to think I took stock. I was laying on my bed, I was invisible, and most importantly I was alive.
Wait, invisible? As soon I thought that, I could feel the cloak.
Any doubts I harbored about this being The Invisibility cloak, were dashed. It wasn't hot, and despite the nearly frigid temperature I kept the room at, it wasn't cold. If I hadn't had it on me I wouldn't have believed it was there at all.
It felt old, the Peverell legend was only a few thousand years old, this cloak was much older. More than that was a feeling of not there that I just couldn't put into words. It also felt like home, which was a little worrying but not as much as you'd think once I thought about it.
The invisibility cloak had been passed down the Potter family for generations, since before it was the Potter family. It made sense that it had become accustomed to us, or more likely we had become accustomed to it.
I pushed myself up and made my way over to my closet, on the front of the closet door hung a full length mirror. In it I could see my room's reflection, but no sign of me.
The cloak didn't hang on me, I wasn't wearing it, it was more like it was a second layer of skin that somehow covered my clothes and my wand. If I wasn't concentrating on it I couldn't even feel it.
Speaking of my wand, with a practiced twitch of my arm I sent my wand into my hand. At no point was it stopped or slowed by the cloak and most interestingly it was still invisible.
"So cool." This obviously wasn't the cloak I remembered reading about in my last life, it was much better.
I was tempted to cast a spell, just to see if I could through the cloak, but I refrained. As much as I wanted to, casting a spell while I was underage in a muggle neighborhood, unless I was in danger, would land me in so much hot water.
I looked at the clock on the wall, two am. That couldn't be right, I had sent the last of the owls away just after midnight. Just how long did I spend trying to sense the cloak?
I sighed, it wasn't important. Right now all I needed to do was get to bed, I didn't have anything to do tomorrow until the ball, but Aunt Petunia didn't like anyone sleeping past eleven. Even during long breaks, like summer or winter.
So with reluctance, I started pulling off the cloak. I came off easily enough, but I was hesitant to part with it. So I folded it up and put it in my pocket, climbed into bed and went to sleep.
888
I like to sleep with the room completely dark. As such I have the curtains fully drawn and I sleep with a small blanket over my head to further cut down on the chances of light getting in my eyes. So when I felt light start hitting my face I knew someone was in my room. Still half asleep I carefully drew my wand and still feigning sleep I rolled over to get a better look at whoever was in my room.
Cracking one eye slightly, I relaxed when I saw it was just Dudley before stiffing when I saw him reading the note I had left on the desk. Shit.
I sat up and stretched, trying to seem completely unconcerned. "Morning Dudley."
I stifled a smile at his abrupt start, especially when the note slipped from his fingers. "A-Alex, I, uh, wanted to see if you were up?" his stuttering tone made it a question. The look on his face was that of the proverbial hand in the cookie jar.
I smiled easily. "Well I am now, was there something you wanted?"
He smiled suddenly, lighting up the room with his innocent joy. "It's snowing!"
I laughed, "It usually does that during winter."
My teasing flew right past him. "Yeah but it's like a meter deep," his smile turned devious, "Perfect time to get Piers back."
I raised my brow curiously, "Oh? What's Piers done now?" Piers was something of the neighborhood bully. He enjoyed picking on the other kids, and Dudley in particular. Which was odd given that Piers was half Dudley's size, and their fights almost always ended with Dudley as the victor.
Come to think of it, Piers only started in on Dudley after he tried to bully me and Dudley performed a flying tackle on him. Piers got detention and Dudley got suspended but when Aunt Petunia found out why he tackled Piers he got an extra piece of cake with dinner.
Dudley rolled up his sleeve, I felt my eyes narrow when I saw the bruise on his upper arm. "How'd that happen?"
"Piers used a stick." Given that satisfied way he said it, he knew he had my full attention.
"Why did Piers use a stick?" I asked.
"Me and Joey were sword fighting and Piers jumped us." When I didn't respond he continued. "Joey ran and Piers tried to get me to fight him, but I just walked away."
Bullshit. "Really? You just walked away?"
"Really," At my unimpressed stare he changed his story. "Well, I did, at least at first. But them he called mom a slag, and I charged him."
"Were you able to get him?"
"No," Dudley shook his head, clearly annoyed. "He was too fast, but after that he ran."
"So he got the drop on you and he called Aunty a slag." Dudley nodded. "Does Aunt Petunia know?" He shook his head. "Well then I think we owe Piers some pay back."
Dudley nodded, "And Drusleys always pay their debts." I nodded in agreement. With that Dudley left so I could get dressed. Sighing I went over to the desk and picked up the note and tore it into little pieces before dumping it in the trash. After getting dressed Dudley and I went out to rain snowy hell on Piers.
888
I watched the road blur as we drove to Mr. Jenson's house. The Ball didn't start until nearly nine but we had to leave early to avoid traffic and because Mr. Jenson's house on the outskirts of a small town on the other side of London. As such the sun was almost completely set, illuminating the sky in a beautiful amalgam of colors.
When the sun finally set, we still had nearly an hour before we would made it to our destination. So I decided to try and get some meditation done, Dudley was consumed in his new Gameboy, Vernon and Aunt Petunia were busy navigating so it was the perfect time.
Breath. Focus. Sense.
The Mirror of Erised, despite of the trauma it had caused did help. I could feel how close I was to a breakthrough. Another few weeks at most and I was sure I would finally find my mindscape.
Breath. Focus. Sense.
I focused on that thought as we made our way to Mr. Jenson's house. My breathing regular and controlled.
Breath. Focus. Sense.
I lost track of time as I meditated. My mind at ease and my body completely relaxed, appearing to the whole world as if I were simply asleep.
Breath. Focus. Sense.
After an indeterminate amount of time I started to come back to myself and I started reaching out with my senses. A habit I had developed at Hogwarts to make sure no one would surprise me after a meditation session.
I was about to reel my senses in when we crossed a ward line. New, but powerful and primal.
"Were here." Aunt Petunia said as we drove up a long drive surrounded on all sides by forest. Oh, that's not good, that's not good at all.
