Author's Note: Okay, a lot of people have been campaigning for a HarryxCelia fic. I've taken all their comments into consideration, re-wrote this chapter a few times with my decision. My final one is this—Harry and Celia will not ever be a couple. While I was never that fond of the Harry x Ginny pairing, Celia is simply not compatible for our hero. I'll elaborate on this point later in the story. There will be minor Harry x Ginny only because I love Ron x Hermione, and Harry can't be lonely forever… again, very small because I don't believe Harry would willingly have a real relationship, as proven in the 6th book. However, with everyone's pleas after this story is finished I will come out with a one-shot that pairs Harry with Celia. I hope that you all continue to read and review. Please, enjoy the story.
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Nymphadora Tonks walked through the many candlelit halls within Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Most from the Order of the Phoenix had already left the famous and infamous building shortly after Remus's recovery. Kingsley, Moody, the Weasleys—straight out the doors they had picked open a few hours ago. The metamorph however had stayed. Her reasons were two. The first and most obvious was that he reluctant lover had nearly been ripped from her and she was unable to leave him yet. Another small sigh passed through Tonk's lips.
Remus, She caressed the name in her heart-spoken thoughts. The werewolf had captured her heart only a year ago. Remus, that baka! He was always going on dangerous missions before he became Harry's tutor. And even after them he goes on another one! He's so very foolish… and selfless, and kind, and gentle… so sad.
The brave young witch shook her head as a small smile curved onto her lips at the thought of the weary-eyed man. I would give anything to make him smile. Because he may never love me, but I will always love Moony.
Always
"Always is a very long time…" A spiced voice intruded upon her thoughts.
It reminded the Auror of her second motive to remain at the school. The reason behind her walking down these halls past the windows revealing a gray outside, Blair.
"I'll thank her for saving Remus." The currently brown-haired woman promised herself.
As she reached her destination, she brought a pale hand up to knock twice on the door.
No answer.
Rapping harder, Nymphadora leaned her presently tall frame against the DADA door.
Silence.
"Professor B—"Tonks yelled, only to have the door swing open.
The klutzy witch stumbled in from the door, knocking over a laden end-table and spilling its many contents on the floor with herself. The violet-eyed figure gave a short laugh from her low-level position.
"Sorry Blair, I'll clean it up."
Obedient to her word, the shifter staggered up with a hand reaching for the items strewn upon the gold-and-red tiles. Her incentive of cleaning them up however, took an abrupt turn.
Wait. The woman's thoughts commanded her. Violet eyes began to snatch up what exactly had been sent to the ground. There were a small number of shuriken, their star-edged tips dipped in crimson. White gauze was twisted free in all corners, and two red-washed rags had been thrown into the disorder. Along with that was a spilled basin. Its amber contents gave off the musky smell of alcohol. Nymphadora Tonks may be the most uncoordinated person alive, but she was not an idiot. Hardly a minute passed by before the black-cloaked person was up again, alarm bells barking loudly in her head as purple eyes scanned the room.
"BLAIR!"
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A candle flickered out in the richly decorated, ancient room of mystery. Its single occupant glared his red eyes at the dying bulb of wax and flicked his wand. The wick snapped, its crumbling body gracing the cold carpet. The man uttered a curse, and drew his faithful wand away from the table again. This time a beacon of light washed into the darkened study from the magical stick. It illuminated his starch, flat face, and gaunt, robed body. Long-fingered hands traced spidery words across the thick tome they imprisoned, caught in the web of the scarlet glare. Inside the vile mind of the man, an unbidden image of a beautiful, blood-dampened immortal berated his thoughts as she forced herself back to the castle of his most hated rivals. Voldemort gave a hiss in displeasure.
What has the wench done to me? Why does that insignificant woman continue to haunt my thoughts?
He hated it. The former Riddle could not bare the thought of the red-blonde witch having any kind of power over him. He was the Dark Lord. He held the power. Not this strange Aduru. The serpent-like wizard thought back to the night the two had first met. She strode boldly in without a care in the world, easily taking out any of his faithful servant that barred her path. After a short struggle then between the two, the new Hogwarts professor had overpowered him in front of his followers. She then hurled salt into his wounds by being annoyed that Voldemort had even been any sort of challenge to her, and giving a warning of her return at some iritic time that suited her mood. And she had done just that. But the immortal had also gone on raids with the dark army. She had assisted in conquering a few villages near Southampton. A game—that was what this war was to her. And he had hated her for it.
Yet slowly, her unpredictability, her freedom, power, her lust for blood; they had wane on Voldemort, who was once just a boy. A boy named Tom Riddle. And he found himself accepting, enjoying her presence.
Those golden eyes that haunted him…
The Dark Lord clenched hands and hissed angrily.
I'll use this magic, this book, without her. I don't need her and I'll release my force with the power I have found. Then I shall tame her, I shall rule her.
… he would close them. Forever.
§
The cerulean blue of Hogwart's own lake rippled, faint movements of life breaking the perpetual sheen of the water. A creature walked gracefully from the waves. The slender legs seemingly molded from water itself. The smooth, rubbery skin faded its hue slightly from the gray morning mist rolling in. But eyes of unsettling aquamarine contrasted in its flecks between the pallor of periwinkle and the depth of darkened evergreen. Its split tale became rigid as the life turned its oval head southward, tips of fangs showing from its lipless mouth.
The Chatdemer.
Mysterious creature of the lake turned its timeless, knowing gaze to the large hulk of spiraling stone before it. This chatdemer was old, old enough to understand the signs. Other creatures felt them instinctively. But their young ignorance could not process the strangeness—a rush in life, settlings of the wind, hurry of the sun, fear in the mist.
The immortals of Death were walking again. The Death-Dealers had returned. And their ancient, timeless magic was soon to be aroused.
The world was at one of those points. A climax of centuries and cultures resulted to a finally forked road. Those currently inhabiting this realm would soon decide the fate of all life itself. Society had turned to this choice, and the chatdemer knew. She knew of the blood of sacrifice that would be required, of the sound of broken hearts and waking furies. The turning of the age was upon them. And the chatdemer knew.
It may take a path to the destruction of life.
§
"Death wants nothing more than itself…"
The flames, they were mocking her in their dance of blood-red bottoms twisting into thinner prongs of white-gold. The smell of wood burning was a foul stench in the heat-blasted air that rung her nose. The charcoal gray haze of smoke stifled the cried in her throat, choking her as tears fell down a pale cheek.
"…Itself in total completion."
She had to keep moving, she had to find him. The fire—how dare it attempt to prevent her. It may burn away her flesh, but she would reach him.
"Death wants to destroy life…"
Between the scents of fired-up wood, the spilled contents of a meal, and oxygen-burning smoke; a horribly sweet smell reached her delicate senses. It froze her tightly despite the heat around her form. Blood.
"…It searched for an eternal death."
The pale, burnt legs were running through the gates of fire now. She followed he scent of blood. Human blood, his blood—it was so sweet, so dear to her. And it was being left to mingle in the flames and on the floor. He was being left. No.
"Death is using you to achieve its goal…"
Her black hair swung around, crisp and smelling from heat-exposure. The dark, subtle amber eyes fell through the room, lingering on a lonely, prone figure at the back. He was propped against a fire-caught wall, soaked in his life-giving liquids. Her heart stopped as he slowly turned his beautiful, marred face to her; transfixing her in a gaze of pale green lined with yellow and dotted with brown. He parted his cracked, bleeding lips to utter one word.
"Ally?"
"…Are you going to let death use you Blair…"
The beautiful, frail-spirited woman held her halting breath for only a moment before running over the few feet between man and woman. She bent down on her knees, panting tears as useless words rolled off her tongue.
"…Are you going to be Death's slave?"
And then the flames came. They licked greedily with scorched mouths until only burnt remains—a case of anger and revenge, an immortal.
"You are mine child. I named you, my Aduru Eposis and you will return. It is I who sheltered you from the pain, I who gave you life anew. Just remember all that happened before…"
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Hermione Granger glanced back over to her best friend. He was sitting in the soft red of the Common Room chairs. His normally buckwheat-colored skin was paler despite the continuous Quidditch practices he attended. His tall build was usually filled with lean muscle, and was now limply thin. The unruly dark hair had flopped wearily across his forehead. Resting above tired emerald eyes was the scar that had caused all the boy's suffering.
"Harry, when was the last time you slept?" The curly-haired girl chided gently.
The slightly re-kindled fire crackled out and left them with the light of dying embers. The trio of friends was in the common room, too early in the morning for others to rise yet. Harry had tried to sneak back into his dormitories. However, Ron had discovered his absence in getting a cup of tea, had gotten Hermione up with some magic, and they were debating whether to fetch him or alert a professor when the teen in question had shown up. So, in consequence the troublesome male had divulged the tale involving the Salazar's dear guardian's demise, Celia's salvation, and Blair's words. Currently, the golden three were sitting in the silence, knowing their time of peace was coming to an end soon. Fellow Gryffindor's would be rousing for school.
"Yeah mate, when did you last eat? You look horrible." Ron added with his usual bluntness.
Hermione turned to glare at other friend, but the words left her mouth as she saw his form. Ronald Weasley had grown taller, and filled out slightly due to Angelina's harsh training. His orange hair had gotten longer and now lay straight. A few strands always fell into warm chestnut eyes. The few remaining freckles couldn't be seen in the half-light as shadows played across his straight nose and strong brow.
"I dunnow." The boy-who-lived muttered incomprehensibly from his seat.
Blushing from her own stare, the clever witch felt her maternal switch click on.
"Ron's right Harry. You need to take better care of yourself. No more late-night strolls."
The exhausted teen muttered, "Whatever,"
"You better listen to her this time Harry. We have our match with Slytherin tonight." The youngest male Weasley commented.
Noise from the upstairs alerted them that their time was now over. Then however, the dead dire reared into life, spurting flames reaching out of the crate. The three 6th years jumped away in shock until the fire faded back down to its normal lively dance. In full light, the bookish witch reprimanded the last speaker.
"Quidditch—Ron is that stupid game all you can really focus on?"
"It's not a stupid game!" He retorted quickly.
Harry gave a low sigh. He had no energy left to deal with his two arguing friends. Without a word, he left the quarreling couple so he could change into newer clothes and gather his school supplies for the day.
You'd think the two would finally shut up and hook up.
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Voldemort looked testily at the candle which had seconds ago, burst into a vicious flare before settling into a calm flicker. The Dark Lord had already finished his translation of the book of the dead. He would unleash its power in a fortnight's time. That would be done—it was no longer of much concern to him. No the death eaters' one master was more concerned with the sudden fire burst. It had reminded him again.
Blair.
§
When those we view above us—those we see as powerful, untouchable—our heroes, fall; we become frightened. We look at our own mortality, see our own weakness. It's a fact observant know. It has been vied along the years:
Hector's defeat in the Trojan War,
Jesus' crucifixion,
General Washington's death,
Gandhi's assassination.
Our eyes build people up until they are invincible. They stand for hope, a light for all humans destined to die. A light that would not waver, cannot fail. And to see them fall, to loose, it scares us shitless.
That was what Nymphadora Tonks was feeling at this moment. Her purple eyes locked on the prone body before her.
Professor Kryeen was poised against the wall. Her head lay limply at an angle, the flaming locks of hair obscuring her face. One leg was pulled under her slender form, the other stretched casually out. Her shirt had been discarded, leaving her exposed from chest to neck. Her ribs and midriff were bound in a tight wrap of white bandage. Dirtied red seeped through the white, staining it.
The infamous Defense Against the Dark Art's Professor was dangerous and disliked. Hell, Tonks had been sent on a mission to dispatch of the woman. But she had still seemed—untouchable, untamed in her mind. And after, the witch had saved Lupin, well the shifter had unconsciously accepted Kryeen as a reluctant heroine. And now…
"Blair," The klutzy woman bent down, unsure of what to do next.
Unseen to the metamorph, a blue-eyed phoenix swept gracefully into the room.
Biting her lip, the Auror stretched her hand out to the figure's shoulder.
"Stop!" A beautiful voice sung.
The phoenix shot down in an instant, dropping like a bomb between the two females. The one still in homeostasis jumped back, the corner of her strange eyes catching a flash of silver and red before she hit the floor. The next scene folded out easily. The large bird was hovering beside her. The golden eyes of the immortal were open, a silver-bladed dagger being withdrawn from where she had obviously attempted to stab at the concerned woman.
"What—why did you do that?" Tonks felt her anger returning.
Come to help the professor and almost end up dead. Great.
Aduru brought her back, gathering a red cloak over her bared torso.
"It's an instantaneous reaction I've been trained to have. You are an idiot for coming near me while I was out."
Her suddenly red eyes trailed up to Daemon's perched figure, thanking him for undoubtedly saving her.
"So what happened?" She was of course referring to the bandages and blooded stars.
Kryeen had already risen to her feet, an annoyed expression on her face.
"None of your business. Get out."
The powerful witch took this as an invitation to continue life in general and scooped herself off, out towards the door. Only two long-forgotten words passed through her lips as she walked under the arches.
"Thank you."
§
The magnificent Chosen One, hope of the wizarding world was currently clumped against a long table, massaging his sore temples.
Snape! Why did I have to get Snape this morning?
"Hey Hermione, Harry what's wrong?" A familiar, playful voice carried a presence next to him.
"Hello to you too Ginny!" Her brother snapped.
The Weasley daughter shot him a slight glare.
"Just tired, how are you?" The boy-who-lived managed to say between a yawn.
Great, I can't even carry a decent conversation. At least I'm too tired to be nervous.
"I can see," The pretty red-head flashed a smile at him. "I'm good, though we do have our game against Slytherin tonight."
Inwardly, Harry groaned. He must have shown something on his face, because the youngest Weasley tapped his shoulder lightly.
"Come on, we can't beat our rivals without our best player on the team."
"Why, what is wrong with Angelina?" The black-haired boy managed a smaller smile.
Ginny laughed lightly, her whole face lighting up beautifully.
"Oh come on, you're the best seeker we have! Dr. Weasley orders you to eat and get some rest before tonight's game!"
The wintergreen-eyed wizard found himself laughing. How did she always manage to brighten even his foulest moods?
"Yeah, thanks I'll try that Dr. Weasley."
Another voice called from across the table and she left with a small wink. Harry looked at the retreating back of the girl he would never allow himself to have. And he felt a deep pang of loss shoot through him. No one ever said sacrifice was easy.
"I've got to go meet with Professor Blair," He muttered to his best friends before taking a grateful leave.
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The number one person on Death Eater's hit list was falling asleep on his feet. In a daze, the Gryffindor 6th year allowed his feet to carry him along the familiar route to the DADA classroom. This kept up until he ran straight into something. The skilled Quidditch player rocked on the balls of his feet, but managed to keep his balance upright. Jade orbs flickered up to see the obstacle.
You have got to be kidding me.
Standing before him was Draco Malfoy, right from the sneering lips to the looming forms of Crabbe and Goyle.
"What's wrong Potter? Tired? I suppose it would be a bit scary, trying to sleep while knowing that there's a chance you'll wake up dead in the morning."
On cue, his muscled sheep gaffed as though that was the funniest thing they had ever heard.
"It's a bit hard to be afraid of your father and his friends when they are off hiding somewhere. But perhaps the idea that your daddy can't pay off your classes anymore is what's scaring you Malfoy." Somehow Harry had the energy to come up with a retort.
The silver-eyed boy's face contoured at the insult, but before he could rebuke the small pattering of light feet bounced off the tiled toward the hostile group.
Celia Magnatine was approaching her cautious blue eyes assessing the situation. Draco turned to his rival with a grin and signaled the brunette to approach. When her face was to expressionless, she could have been a stature—coldly beautiful.
The blonde Slytherin wrapped one hand possessively around her slender waist as the seer just stood in silence. The words the proud pure-blood spoke next were reminiscent of Uncle Vernon's bragging of a car.
"This is my girlfriend, Celia. Funny Potter, where's your girlfriend the mudblood or having you taken to help the poor and hooked up with that Weasley brat?"
As the pale boy laughed, his words snapped the last threads of patience inside the exhausted scar-face. In one breath, the heartthrob drew his wand.
"Stupefy,"
The teen celebrity paralyzed his hated classmate, aiming quickly at both Crabbe and Goyle before their amazingly small minds could conjure up a reaction. In the matter of a minute, only the female Slytherin was left on her feet. Harry panted as he put his wand back.
What had made him break like that? Was it simple fatigue of the fact that a slime ball like Malfoy had something the boy would never allow himself to possess? It was most likely the bringing up of a certain daughter that made him jinx them all.
"Harry," Professor Blair Kryeen walked out from her room, golden eyes sweeping over the situation,
"Celia take these three to Poppy and tell her that young Draco here was disrespectful in my class and I punished him with a curse, Also, tell him that if he says anything to contradict this story I really will punish him."
The doll-like girl nodded and muttered a spell to allow the three bodies to levitate behind her, suspended by some invisible chain to follow her retreating form down and around the bend.
"Why did you cover for me like that?" The remaining student asked as he attempted to hide the drowsiness from his voice.
The intensity of the classroom was beginning to wake him.
The teacher shrugged casually. "It was a believable story. Besides, I don't want anyone coming after you while we talk."
There was curtness in her spiked voice that deterred the boy from asking to many questions. When she plunked herself into a seat, Harry followed suit. He was given no chair nor offered refreshments, but expecting polite gestures from this woman was like wanting hell to turn into a pink field of rainbows and smiles. Not happening.
But on the other hand, the Eposis had made a questionably decent act just then.
"Harry in our previous duel you should know I entered your mind."
The black-haired wizard almost winced at the memory, annoyed at his professor's bluntness. Blair's golden eyes were fixed on him, the stunning flamed licking around the dark corners as she cocked her head in her own trademark poise.
"Boy what do you want from me?"
Potter blinked smartly. "Err—what?"
The immortal made an irritated humph and stood up, striding over to her large window. After a pause, a bare twist of her neck allowed her to partially face him, a few blonde streaks obscuring her face.
"I need something from you Harry. Something I cannot force out. So, I am willing to give something in return. What is it you want of me?" She was not happy by the force of these words. It had gone deadly soft.
A nagging wariness taking on Hermione's voice picked at the famous boy-who-lived.
"What is it you want from me?"
Kryeen swiveled fully around, her face flashing a moment before she spit the words out.
"I want your story—the memories of your life in completion with only truths."
The younger of the two processed her words before saying, "Couldn't you just invade my mind again?"
Ignoring his slightly bitter note, Aduru shook her head. "Your thoughts are too jumbled. I can't gather any real information behind them."
Slightly disturbed that his DADA professor had been willing to force entry into his mind, the reluctant celebrity thought over her proposition thoughtfully. It seemed innocent enough, but the little Hermione voice in his head was screaming atrociously loud. But considering he rarely listened to the talented witch in person…
"Alright, in exchange I want—?" What did he want?
The first idea that propped into the scarred wizard's mind was training. Professor Blair was an exceptionally powerful witch, and with his quest to defeat Voldemort he needed the best teacher he could get. But then thoughts of another time, of a story that would not leave him alone, interrupted his mind. The life of Ally, Daemon, and Blayne, it called to him. In the end, his natural curiosity set the wheels of fate into turn once again.
"—Your story. I want to know about Blayne and what happened to you all."
The firecracker went rigid, halting time in her wake. Everything was baiting for her answer.
"Very well."
Acknowledging her get-the-fuck-out tone, the male stood and made his way out. Half-way there, he turned and dared to push her a little farther.
"Why?"
"Why what?" The Death-Dealer replied hotly.
"Why do you want to know my life?" Scar-face would not back down.
Eying him, Kryeen pulled a single sheet of water color paper from one of her large robe pockets.
"Because of these eyes."
Intrigued, Harry leaned over to see the painting.
It was an incredible feat of art. The pair of eyes was done in watercolor paint and black and white charcoal for shading. The basic shape of the eye was wide and slightly curving almond-shaped. The lids were small and smooth, leaving the eye exposed in an almost pleasant expression. A thin line of pink ran under the white orb, showing the strip of skin. Thick, dark brown lashes lined across the top in charcoal and ran straightly along the bottom. The ball was a bright white, no red veins in sight. The iris was a startling emerald, allowing for two pinpricks of white charcoal for the imaginary light to hit off the blending shade of gemstone-colored orbs. The black pupils were partially hidden, showing no surprise behind their lid. Those eyes, they were his eyes. But the shape, and the thick lashes, they were feminine.
His mother's eyes.
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A/N: This was a longer, but fun chapter to right. I'm going in a road trip for about 3 weeks, so I don't know when I'll be able to update… It'll be ASAP though—promise! Hope everyone's summer is going great!
Next Chapter: Harry and Celia talk… his appointments with Blair begin and Voldemort begins to gather the last remaining items to unleash the power from the Dead Book…