§
The scene of in the Defense Against the Dark Arts room had not been forgotten, but rather pushed aside to the past crannies of their minds, waiting to be re-examined when the more pressing matter had faded. And what could be more important then the carefully laid, inspirationally conceived, and powerfully combined plan to rid Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry of its rogue teacher? He was currently lying in the school's Hospital Wing, upon sheets dyed crimson with blood.
Harry James Potter stood in numb shock, not wanting to look but unable to turn away. So the emerald eyes just stared in denial as they surveyed the man in the hospital bed. At least, he had been told it was a man. He had been told it was Professor Remus (Moony) Lupin, last of the Marauders. But part of the boy could not piece together the kind, raggedy father-friend with this mutilated body hardly containing its own spirit. The boy-who-lived was ready for Lupin to walk in the door, denounce it as a trick from Voldemort, and tell everyone he was fine. Then he, Ron, and Hermione would laugh. Madam Pomphrey and Mrs. Weasley would bustle about how he wasn't taking care of himself and Dumbledore would call a feast. But then, Sirius never walked in either. So the emerald eyes just stared.
Remus Lupin was a man, and an animal. Now he lay before them and neither claim could save him. The thin, worn body was mangled, and even after Madam Pomphrey's fine work, his body itself looked slightly crooked. His spinal cord seemed to have shattered in two places so that the man's top half did not rightly align with his bottom half. The white bandages wrapped furtively around the ex-professor seemed to have stopped trying to hold the body together. No matter how many times they were changed, they kept washing over crimson, and soon the very bed and crisp white sheets he lay on had pooled in cardinal, grotesque glory. Only the face was not completely smothered. A deep slash ran from Moony's nasal cavity to his chin, still shining bright with fresh-drawn liquid. His brow was bloodied and knotted in agony. The blonde hair was matted with dirt and scarlet as well as the usual brown and gray. The lines along the outcast's face seemed to have deepened, making him look too old and too gone. The soft brown-blue eyes were fluttering feverishly, the only movement besides slow, random rises of breath. Remus Lupin was dying.
Nymphadora Tonks was kneeling before the bed of the man she loved. Tears ran down her ashen-gray face, unable to keep themselves. The black hair fell limply down her back, bleeding blue eyes locked onto his prone form. With one hand she gripped lightly onto his bandaged palm. With the other, she held onto the bedpost to keep herself from slipping down farther. "Remus…Remus…" He low whispers were the only sound that echoed in the silent room besides the ragged breath and bumbling of Pompey.
"Harry," That was Hermione.
His bushy-haired friend looked over him with concern, drops falling down her own face. Not finding any other words to say, she laid a hand on his shoulder. Harry didn't respond to her. Something inside him was curled up and was dying with every breath of his Occlumency Teacher. Ron was trying to comfort Hermione, who was now sobbing on his shoulder, ears bright red as he patted her awkwardly, hazel eyes mourning. Mr. Weasley was on Lupin's other side. The Order member stood with his head bowed, looking weary and beaten. Beside him was his wife, trying so hard to be strong for her three children and husband. Fred and George had not known how to take such pain, and for that they had walked out, somewhere in the long halls of the castle venting their pain and shedding their sorrows. Kingsley was behind Tonks, muttering gently to her and keeping one large hand on her shoulder in some form of soothe. Moody and Dumbledore stood closer to the golden trio, Alastor unreadable as he murmured to Albus. The Headmaster looked aged and somber. The entire air of the wing was charged with hurt, and smelled the vile stench of blood. And so it went on, covering dreams crimson.
§
The famous boy-who-lived began to thaw, and quickly found himself drowning in still waters, searching for a lifeboat.
"Professor," He called to his long-trusted Headmaster.
Dumbledore peered down at him sadly. "Yes, Harry?"
The teen's heart was soundly pounding. "Isn't there anything that can be done?"
Silence. Everyone's eyes looked at the great wizard in his blue, starry robes.
There was a low, defeated shake of his head as Albus spoke. "I am sorry Harry, but his wounds are too extensive."
It finally nestled into the raven-haired boy. Remus was going to die. He looked for a reason, for an explanation as to why this would happen to good, victimized Lupin. And in his desperation, Harry Potter found someone to blame. Her.
Professor Blair Kryeen, who had almost killed Harry as she saw his most personal thoughts and deepest memories. Kryeen had called for this mission. Kryeen had held them up when Lupin might have been found earlier and spared. The more scar-face dwelt upon it, the more he convinced herself of her fault. Soon his pain had dissolved in clashing fury and Harry turned around, feeling the same thirst he had felt last year in the Department of Mysteries when he was going after Bellatrix. Vengeance. The voices of his friends faded into sizzle as his blood heated up, adrenaline flowing strong. Potter whipped around, wand drawn as he marched blindly out the door. And there she was.
Thoughts swamped Harry's head. He wanted to hit her, to rip her to pieces. The young wizard wanted to break her in every way that he had been broken. He wanted to hurt her so his pain would end. But then she spoke, words he had not been prepared for, words he could not fight any longer.
"He's dying isn't he? The werewolf?"
Blair stood at the doorstep, high combat boots peppering out from under her long red robes. The multi-colored hair had formed back into its perfectly fiery waves, each strand defined across her exotically beautiful features. The bird-like eyes bore into her student, unflinching.
Harry felt his anger fade into a cold emptiness and suddenly he was on his knees, wanting to cry but not allowing himself that much weakness in front of a woman he had sworn to hate so much.
So the golden eyes just stared.
Lupin is going to die, and all I can do is sit in silence in front of Blair… Remus is going to die just like Sirius… Why him? Why wasn't I able to protect him? I am the boy-who-lived; I have a scar in my arm and a duty to all my friends? What did Moony do to deserve this?
Harry was angry, with Voldemort for most likely causing this, Blair for holding him up, Lupin for dying, Dumbledore for not being able to help, Tonks for loving him, the world for making the professor live such a life. But above all, Potter was angry with himself. For being a weak child unable to protect his father's last friend.
"Harry," Blair's smooth voice echoed in his mind, dispersing his dangerous thoughts.
The green-eyed youth looked up in alarm, and then found that she was drawing him to his feet. Her eyes had that look again, with the fire far back and emotions flickering. She was looking human again.
The Seeker opened his mouth to say something, but his DADA professor beat him to it.
"Let's go in."
In confusion, Harry followed, attached to her almost arm. The wizard noticed in his subconscious that her skin was unnaturally hot.
Everyone in the room stared blankly as their hero stumbled in with the villain of the hour. However, Moody quickly growled and pulled out his wand.
Blair surveyed him with disdain. "Drop it, I don't have patience to sedate you."
"Harry!" Hermione cried, running to her friend.
"I'm fine Hermione." He replied back softly.
With a turn, Kryeen faced the dying man. The golden eyes intensified, something dark checkered across her face. There was a long pause, one eye from everyone watching the new add-in.
"He was a werewolf, fighting for your side in the war?" The red-haired witch commented after a long silence.
How does she know that? The boy-who-lived wondered as her almost-question was answered.
"That's right." It was Dumbledore, shoulders sagging and lines deepening,
"He was attacked trying to recruit more of his kind for the Order." Mr. Weasley spoke softly, seeming to accept that Blair already knew about them.
The young teacher studied the man in front of her more, and the trio of friends could not decipher what was clicking in her estrange thoughts until she spoke again, her voice this time filled with authority but almost uncertainty…
"Leave the room."
A breath, maybe more, filled with silence. Then…
"What are you crazy?"
"Traitorous Whelp!"
"How dare you say that!"
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Well I never…"
"My, my, my I have caused such an uproar it seems." Kryeen commented with a little smile as voices greeted her in protest.
Nymphadora stood up, slowly and on shaking legs. Tears still dropped from her face in sapphires as the shifter looked straight at the other woman and quiet descended again. A moment, and all the pain from the world seemed to rest with that one witch.
"What else is there that you could do to him?"
Her breath was shaky and her voice bare, but the soul in those words was unforgettable.
And Blair looked back with those oddly human eyes.
"Do you love him, then?"
The girl gasped in air, tears still streaming down her red cheeks.
"Do I… How could you ask that when I stand here not before you!" Her voice rose to level at the end, fury and sorrow running a black scar through her red heart.
"Do you love him?" The professor asked again, harsher.
"Yes," Tonks turned back to Lupin's body. "Always."
There was a pause and all the watchers felt the woman's pain in that moment, her agony.
"Always is a very long time." Blair finally spoke, not looking at any of them but rather of some spectacle of haunt that was for her eyes only, the fire lying deep down inside her soul. "But I can bring your love back to you, always will be up to you both to accomplish."
"What!" The voice of nearly everyone in the room came in soft sighs with gentle sobbing breaths.
The witch turned to them, a shadow over her features.
"My advice is that you leave the room." A whip glazed off her tongue to sting them as she pulled a thimble-sized burlap bag from her pocket.
No one budged an inch, and the strange woman did not say another word to then about it. Shock stills all things mortal.
From the bag, Blair's slender fingers pulled out a pinch of fine, glittering dust. With a bare wrist movement, the precious grains flew into the air. Yet even as she pulled her wrist back a flame began to burn on her finger and she pushed it forward onto the dust before it had time to fall. Enchanting, the flames roared over the room, vanishing into a haze of colors and a dulling of senses. Harry could no longer feel his own body, but he saw colors, a brilliance of shapes and dimensions that never had been reveled in the waking world. Around Hermione's blurry form was a thin layer of pale sea green, followed by a thick band of pink and an aura of gray. The colors cast themselves around her body in the form of large cat, fathomless dark eyes cunning and sentimental. Ron's first line was in goldenrod yellow. The thicker band was a shade darker in pink, rose instead of blush, then his female friend. The misted edges that hugged Ron was a heavy navy, formed into a breed of dog, friendly face with unwavering loyalty. The other people in the room seemed to be moving in some fashion, and kept blurring the colors and shapes around them. Turning slowly and heavily, Harry had to close his eyes from a bright light he suddenly hit. After a moment, the boy-who-lived opened his inherited green eyes. It was Blair, encased in a brilliant light that surrounded her form. Some kind of red bird was in front of her… Phoenix! Harry realized the large, tragic beauty of the allusion. It was facing another kind of creature, silvering and large, with fierce bronze eyes and wicked fangs. Wolf. She was speaking in that language, the one of age and power, endless memory and tragic hope. Yet the words rebounded in his harsh creaking language.
"You have taken his life, and now one must be given. Release the boy."
The wolf spirit howled angrily in response. It's silver mane was defined and standing, showing the sleek muscle rippling within. Cold, white eyes, glowing without the black heart of a pupil. Icy fangs ran in its wide mouth, slick with foam and spit. It was a creature once caged and now free, and it would not go back so easily.
"You were a curse, so now be a blessing. Unbind the mortal and run free under the night to race the wind and its call. Cry to Lady Luna, who watches in love from her dark throne of night. Beat the earth under your paws and crush the leaves in silence to defy all mortal bounds of this realm. Taste blood of a kill, and the victory of a hunt. Stand with your pack and face any danger without fear. That is the way of a wolf, grand princes of the night. Your pride is your weakness, is your strength. Have you forgotten that, imprisoned friend? Have you left remembrance of what you truly are for this pointless rage and fury? Would you trade the beauty of the forest to torment this mortal even in his death? Have you truly fallen that far from mercy?" The great red head of the bird swung irritably, graceful neck burning in orange flame even as crimson feathers showed. The voice was Blair's, but without words, the phoenix was talking.
The protector of night gave an angry howl, filled with the fury over its capture. "Save the boy? He is the one who imprisoned me in this shell? The idiocy of his human self kept me locked in this body so long, fed me poisons so I could not run to the moon, hid me from the world in shame! It is our way to punish the trespassers, so he will DIE!"
The spirit lunged forward, but it was stilled in mid-leap, unable to move. The fiery bird soared over it, screeching its beautiful melody with authority and power.
"Punish the wicked? The world is wicked, night crawler. The forests die, the trees wither, the animals grow dumb, and the people dumber. You have endured a cage in this body, and I have endured a cage in this world. Are you not cruel as them, to strike a man for being only mortal? For the thousand atrocities I have committed in this life, I belong no where but in the pit of Hell to burn forever. But I have payed for them with my blood. I seek revenge upon the world, not vengeance. I am not just, and will not pretend to be. Will you mask yourself in false correct, stand before me and slit your side open if you dare cast that lie!" Blair's voice rose to a high volume, and the phoenix flame burnt brighter, making Harry turn away. The heat began to singe his skin and made his eyes water.
"What would you have me do, Aduru Epois, doom-sender? I know you, solder from the army of death itself. What would you know of my kind, of my justice?" The silver hair was seen in every strand, as bright as any riches in the hot light. But the teeth glistened brighter that pearls, hungry.
"I may be doom-sender now, but I was a sister to you once, last time kin. I ran under the night, and tasted its wildness. Leave your anger behind and be free once again, to sing to the moon and run under the trees. Let go, spirit of the wolf." Her voice had been lowered until the last sentence then it rose in the bird's song, clear and ancient in its raw force.
There was a moment of hesitation, and then the wolf took a step with its back leg, free from the spell. Then another. And with a cry, a howl of relinquishment, of love for its own unbridled spirit, or pride for its after-sun kingdom, it became a white light that split into many pieces. And then the phoenix grew brighter and hotter, until the room was bursting with flames. It cut through the oxygen and Potter felt his head spin, his body in agony and burning flesh and hair hit his nostrils. It seemed like a flash of eternity, and then it was gone.
§
The boy-who lived, had lived again. His caramel skin was burnt cheery, chocolate hair singed deadly. But he was alive, standing on a slant, making his body move as fear for his friends, and Lupin came for him as the scar on his arm stung badly.
"Blair!" He hissed, between clenched teeth, managing to walk. The smoke in the room was clearing, and as it did, so did his sight. In more ways then one. The room was left undamaged, the tiled floors still spotless, the white walls still sickeningly pale. And in the middle was Moony, laying still on his untouched white and red bed.
"Remus!" Tonk's cry could be heard, and Harry saw the deep, scarring burn marks on her form as she ran to his bed.
"Ron, Hermione!" The teenage hero called anxiously to his two best friends.
"We're here Harry." Ron's voice was as ashen as his face, the flaming hair scorched on his head.
Hermione was beside him, her eyes wide and shaking even as she stood, talking to him.
"We are both okay, how about you?"
The tragic case walked over to both his friends, wanting to cry, hug them, and punch something. Of course, all he did was give a little smile.
"I'm fine, what about Professor Lupin?" This was directed to Tonks.
All around the room, the people were stirring. Moody was cursing and walked around, looking in every cranny for the dangerous professor who had vanished. Dumbledore cast his gaze over the golden trio, ensuring that they all were safe, while Mr. Weasley and Kingsley stood up, about to help Alastor. And then it happened.
The sad, worn gray eyes of Moony opened, and somehow they weren't haunted anymore. The back shadow of fear and guilt had lifted, and more then that, his body had righted itself.
Lupin sat up, looking around the room. "What... happened?"
"What has happened, Remus, is something none of us expected." Dumbledore's calming voice rang out over them as his blue eyes twinkled brightly. "Death has been delayed.
"It was that woman... Kryeen." Moony said softly, still looking as shocked as anyone in the room. "That woman saved me."
"...But, why?" Shackledbolt asked the question everyone was thinking.
"We came to kill her, or at least exile her..." Nymphadora began talking softly. "...and she saved you."
Tears were brimming in her hopeful eyes. "Remus!" She whispered, hugging the man tightly.
"Ease down, Nymphadora or else you'll undone whatever the professor has done." A slightly disoriented Madam Pomphrey spoke up, not unkindly.
"Let her go." A familiar, cultured, smooth, enticing voice greeted them from the doorway.
All eyes turned, from green to gray, to the woman standing at the open door. There was Professor Kryeen, her flaming crimson to pale yellow hair twisting in a messy, beautiful way. The shining golden eyes, bright and wild were crossed with the shadow of emotion again, but her classic smirk still played upon a flawless face of inhuman, free, fairness. The scarlet robes swished around her ankles even as she stood leaning against the wood frame.
"Professor Blair how... why?" And even as Harry looked at her, his fury dripped away.
She had done what her had vowed to do, and she had succeeded. There was no way he could hate Kryeen and love Moony at the same time, and his deep disgust to the DADA woman fell into ashes, burnt away by the flames. Blair gazed deeply at the younger, searching something and holding his green eyes for a long breath. Then she tilted her head up, nodding to Tonks and Remus.
"The girl can't kill him now. His body was healed by the very spirit that was killing him," Her words, though spoken in modern English, still seemed to echo the ancient magic they had before, a shadow of what it could do. "However, there is one side effect." Kryeen added, pulling her smirk a little higher as the room's face fell an inch or so.
"What have you done to me? Please, tell me." Remus's voice was calm, but the gray eyes were afraid and sad at what she could say. Would he loose his human self entirely? Had he turned into some other creature? Had he sold his soul to the night itself? Their imaginations expanded tragic incidents of horror in the small lapse it took her to reply.
"You are no longer a werewolf. The wolf inside you gone now, and you are merely man." Blair replied carefully, before she walked through the dark of the doorway. The red cloak faded through the door, and Dumbledore held Mad-eye from following. She went alone.
§
A/N- this is the extended version of the chapter. Sorry about all the condensing and fixing. I promise that the next chapter will be chapter 25... at last. Thanks to all my reviewers you have kept on reading through the disorganization. My sincerest apologies and best Easter wishes to all of you.
Next chapter: Draeg Darkling returns, and Voldemort strikes...