CHAPTER SEVEN Flash Of Gold
Disclaimer: I don't claim.
"Carae" "Cah-ray"
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18th January 1960, 11:56pm
It wouldn't be long now; a few more minutes. To be exact, it would be one hundred and seventy nine point seven seconds until he had to concentrate. Just one spark of his will and a significant slice of the operation would fall into place.
The gentle rhythm of the decrepit grandfather clock soothed his aching mind, the appeasing chime washing over him like warm water, calming him and allowing him to extend his senses.
A monologue of sound crashed over him, the volume increasing the ache that he'd been feeling considerably since he had acknowledged dominance over the pitiful excuse of the once-great wizard Albus Dumbledore, without him even noticing. In his prime, Dumbledore had been an exceptional man, but time had eaten at his energy, and his magic had withered alongside his life. Now Dumbledore was nothing more than an ancient, riveted fool who had underestimated his past friends power; one slip was all it had taken, and control had been his, not Albus's. Although he didn't know it yet; he still believed he was the master of his own mind, but he had been influencing everything move Dumbledore made for the past seventy years.
Intriguing how rapidly cards could switch hands.
It had been frightfully easy; the old man's mind had been fragile and uncoordinated, and the only thing he had had to do was sow seeds of deceit within the ancient man's mind and Dumbledore had walked into his hands like a dog on a lead. Effortless- the only potentially problematic point had been gaining access to the old man's mind, and that obstacle had been swept away more than sixty years previous; and then he had lain in wait, deep within the fool's mind, waiting for the ideal opportunity.
He would have to surface now, to influence Dumbledore's actions, but then he could loose himself in the fool's thoughts and over-active imagination once more, and Albus wouldn't even know he existed.
The man glanced fleetingly at the clock, barely able to discern the time through the thick blanket of dust coating its face.
A thunderous booming echoed off of the damp, mould-spattered walls as the first of twelve chimes began on the grandfather clock.
With a humourless smile, the man seized Dumbledore's mind and imprisoned it within his own significantly greater mind, gaining control of the body the two men shared. Now in complete control, he embraced the rivers of thought around him.
Thousands of minds screamed for his attention, but he had a purpose for dwelling in the sea of thoughts that hovered above the world, that the irrelevant beings below remained oblivious to. He sought one familiar mind out of the ocean, and after several seconds he found it.
Thousands of miles away, a woman was in her fifteenth hour of labour, and with one burst of powerful thought, he whispered insubstantial words that she would undoubtedly oblige to in her minds ear, telling her when to wait, when to push…
One second it took for him to do what he had waited to do for over three decades, but it was done; a part of the operation was rapidly falling into place.
As he opened Dumbledore's eyes, he glanced at the hands on the grandfather clock and smiled. Not on second astray.
He alone had completed the most preciously important part of the mission; he had ensured that Sirius Black was born at exactly twelve o'clock at night, on the eighteenth of January, 1960.
17th September 1972
Sirius drifted in and out of consciousness, feral snarls and sounds of hostility surrounding him. Only darkness met his gaze when he opened his eyes.
He was lying face down in the churned sludge of the fallen leaves, dead insects and rotting foliage of the Forest. His throat and chest burned, as if he had been seared with iron-hot rods.
Or, fittingly, the hands of vampires, whose ice-cold touch was bitter enough to burn your bare skin.
Which was exactly what had been holding him, James and Remus captive just minutes before.
Vampires were animals; they were agile, dexterous and had the IQ of a super-brain. They were cleverer than your average hunter, and considerably more powerful; their hunts were carried out with precision, and almost never lost their chosen target. No mere human or animal could ever best them in a fair frontal clash; only supremely gifted witches and wizards could even hope to avoid getting butchered straight away in conflict with them, and some magical creatures could perhaps fend attacking vampires off, but that that the height of immunity to vampires.
So why was something battling the vampires -for Sirius could tell easily that they were still here; the stench of decay still clung thickly in the air- and more so, what could possibly have made the creatures think it a deadly enough opponent to abandon their prey?
Hisses and animalistic snarls reached Sirius's ears again, followed by thumps, indicating that someone-or something- was being pinned down and torn at with razor-sharp fangs. In a split-second of indecision, Sirius realised that it was an ideal opportunity to escape the scene, but couldn't locate his friends through the omnipresent gloom.
He was about to move when a dry, throaty laugh echoed terrifyingly close to him.
"You fight well, Carae. Let us cease this futile conflict."
The word 'Carae' meant nothing to Sirius, but small filters of predawn light had seeped through the towering branches, and allowed him to make out a dim, grey picture of the scene in front of him.
The two vampires stood in the sparse clearing not ten metres away, their tense forms bent into fighting stances, facing a shadow-bathed figure half-concealed in the trees. Sirius couldn't discern any more than the third figures outline; the shadows washed away any remnants of identification, but when they spoke, Sirius felt a rush of familiarity, despite having no recollection of when he had heard it before.
"As do you, Vitar." Sirius's head swam as he tried to remember what Vitar meant; he'd heard it somewhere, he knew it… He felt a rush of anger at the vampires and whoever the third person was, why couldn't they talk like normal people?
"Ah! You speak the Old Tongue?" The delight was evident in the vampire's voice. He was about to add more when the female interrupted him.
"Why did you attack us, Carae?" Her sugared tone was under-layered with a hint of something menacing, but the shadow-clad stranger remained undeterred.
"Hogwarts has rather loose boundaries compared to other schools, but I doubt it would tolerate you eating three of its pupils."
"And what would they do to stop us?" The female vampire sneered, all sweetness lost from her voice. "They lack strength and swiftness; we would be long gone before they reached here. And anyway," She leaned forward. "You are the only one who can provide evidence to our crime, and you are easily disposed of."
She sprang forwards before she had finished, her enhanced nails wildly slashing the air around her in an attempt to catch the darkness-cloaked being in front of her.
One claw raked across the darkness, and withdrew, smeared in blood. Not a fatal cut, but enough to send the male vampire into a frenzy of blood-lust.
Sirius could guess, from all the vampire books he'd read- forced upon him in his sixth year by the DADA teacher who had always resembled a century-old prune in his opinion- that whatever this person was, it wasn't human; no human could withstand two fully-fledged vampires alone.
His ponderings were interrupted when the male vampire hissed, and performed an alien somersault in mid-air; a result of lunging forwards and trying to stop at the same time.
"It's you?" He whispered incredulously.
A cold, humourless laugh issued from the trees. "Took you long enough, Kavar."
"Adair, it's really you? Last I heard, you were in the Atlians, acting as a negotiator."
"True, but my presence was required here." Sirius strained to catch the accent, but the sound of whoever it was slipped through the air around him, melting away as soon as it appeared. "And I believe yours"- their tone turned icy- "is not."
"Ah, yes," The vampire seemed almost… afraid, of this mysterious person lurking in the shadows. The notion sounded foreign to Sirius – a vampire, afraid of something? Ridiculous. "We didn't expected to see… well, you here, Adair. We… we'll just, leave."
"It would be best if you did, Kavar," Steel remained in the figure's voice. "We may be acquainted, but do not fool yourself; return and you will regret it."
Sirius waited- his body still tensed against the hard earthen floor, his eyes straining to make out more than just the outlines of trees- for the vampires reply, but none came.
The vampires had gone. They'd disappeared faster than his weak human eyes could follow.
Which left him, his unconscious friends and the shadow-cloaked figure.
Who was emerging from the concealment of the trees in front of him.
Sirius couldn't tell whether the figure was male or female; the heavy black travelling cloak that hung off them masked any identification pointers. His heartbeat increased as the figure strode forward, but they hadn't noticed him; they were bending down into the thick underbrush, obviously searching for something. Something extended from the folds of black cloth, and Sirius, from his vantage point, caught a flash of pale skin- a hand? - And a dark circle splashed upon it, evident against the pallid colour of the rest of the hand-or whatever it was.
The figure straightened, and looked directly at him. Terror rushed over him like a torrent of water.
Frozen with fear and unable to move, Sirius remained motionless in the stunted trees and plants that built up the underbrush of the Forest. A flash of gold, deep within the impenetrable darkness of the hood that concealed the face of whoever it was, realised him from his petrified state. The figure didn't need to speak to convey it's message; leave now and don't look back.
Without thinking, Sirius scrambled up and skidded over to where his friends lay, bruises already forming on their faces where they had been struck unconscious by the vampires. Placing a hand on each of them, he extended his senses.
With a deep breath, he apparated, leaving the confines of the Forest and its shadow-swathed figure far behind.
A/N: bit of a sappy ending there, but hey, I'm writing this at like one o'clock in the morning, so leave me alone about it already! So um, yeah, has anyone guessed who this "figure" is? It might be obvious, but if you reread chapter two, you might find out; there is a clue or two in there…… mentions for whoever reviews and gets it right!
AT