{Disclaimer: The Harry Potter World was created by J.K. Rowling and rights are owned by, but not limited to Warner Brothers and Scholastic Books. I, therefore, own no parts of this save for my twisted plot and the characters of Andromeda McGee and Wyvern.}
Shane, this one's for you, despite that I can't write when I'm happy with life, which is your fault that I am, but I don't mind. Love you!
Chapter 7
Birds Of A Feather
**Cada oveja con su pareja, Spanish Proverb**
He liked the pigeons. He honestly did. They were so lively, and iridescent, and pretty, and sweet, and lovable, and despicable, and malicious, and evil. Damn it! He swore under his breath. He hated pigeons. Nothing could change that, not even his Master's wishes. In fact he hated all birds, pigeons especially. They were gross, disgusting, little, hollow-boned cretins that only deserved to have their puny necks wrung and every single droplet of blood squeezed forcefully out of them.
But he was forced to be there under the threat of death and extreme pain. He would have to put up with it for now, but some unfortunate soul was going to pay for his torture. It would probably be the pigeons.
Of course there were other people that he could have put into immense amounts of misery just because of this, but the avians would generate much more pleasure. He sat down on the park bench, noticing how decrepit it looked. It needed at least a new coat of paint, if not a whole new entire bench to begin with. He wished he could fix it to make it more to his liking, but things were not happening in the way he wanted them too. At least it was green, he mused to himself. They could have made things worse and painted it red. That would have really ticked him off; to be forced to associate with the color of his archenemies. He did not want to think about it.
He reached his hand into the bottom of the paper sack and felt the small orb, still warm from its creation earlier in the day. His Master had given it to him with direct orders as to how it worked. He shuddered at the thought of the meeting.
"Calhoun," Lord Voldemort hissed unpleasantly.
"Yes, Master?" the man groveled at the foot of the tall throne. Groveling was something the Master always appreciated.
"I have a task for you, Calhoun. The other nitwits here," he gestured with his wand toward a pile of dead bodies in the corner, " did not seem to comprehend my meaning when I said not to harm the person under the name of Andromeda McGee. They seemed to have misunderstood my clear, concise directions and now her soul is floating somewhere unbeknownst to us. Your task is to locate her soul and make certain she knows she is not dead."
"Yes, Master," Joshua Calhoun had no clear idea how he was to complete this task, but did not dare to ask.
"I am giving you this," a small opalescent orb appeared in Voldemort's hand. "It attracts wandering spirits. It will work to confirm her existence."
"Thank you, Master," the orb floated down to where Calhoun was still on his knees. He began to stand.
"Crucio!"
The Death Eater fell back to the ground, screams of agony escaping his lips.
"You must be punished as well, for you did not stop your compatriots from not harming the woman. You will disguise yourself as an old man in the park, feeding the birds. She will think you harmless and come to you. Finite Incantatem." Voldemort laughed maliciously as Calhoun scrambled out of the room, orb clutched in his hand.
Joshua shook his head to clear the memory. It was not the first time he had been placed under the Cruciatus curse nor would it be the last. He had found an aging potion quite easily and now looked about mid eighties instead of a much younger twenty three.
He saw the shade well before she saw him. It would be easier to play the part than to give anything away as to who he actually was. She was a pathetic creature, crying and sobbing. He wanted to slap some sense into her, but knew it would be useless. How the hell did he get himself into this? "There, there, dear, don't cry," he tried to sound soothingly as he tossed a mocking crumb to the birds. "Men are never worth it. My wife told me that once. We were together for over fifty years before she passed away, said she only married me because I was a gentleman." The was a complete lie, but it sounded good.
"It isn't men that's my problem," she mumbled. He could barely hear her over the sounds of the traffic and the people. "Well, it was a problem, but we solved it or at least attempted to."
"Then if it's not relationships, what else can there be to trouble you? World hunger can't cause that many tears." He wanted to swear, to curse, to light something on fire and watch it burn.
The shade's head snapped up, her eyes ablaze. "My problem is that I think I'm dead."
"Oh, really?" he threw another chunk of the bread to his waiting flock though he wanted to kick the pigeons instead. "And how did you come to that conclusion?"
"There was an attack and I ran into the fray of it and got cursed and then I was flying and ended up here. I think the curse killed me."
He nodded thoughtfully. He had been there. He knew exactly what had happened. "I think that you might have a problem though I can tell you that you are definitely not dead."
"What did you say?"
"I said that you are not dead. It was quite clear and concise actually. I took all my pills this morning, I know I'm comprehensible enough for normal people to hear me."
"How did you come to the conclusion that I'm not dead?" Her voice wavered as she asked the question.
"It's rather a quite simple answer, my dear. You see, if you were dead, you would be a ghost and ghosts are naturally white and shades of grey, not colored as you are. So therefore you cannot be a ghost, and are not dead." It was a matter of knowing how to lie through his teeth. Damn Gryffindors always took everything at face value and nothing more.
"If I'm not dead, then what am I?"
Joshua Calhoun sighed as if he expected her to know these things. "You're a soul or a shade of a living person."
"What does that mean exactly?"
"It means that your body is somewhere out there and waiting for you to return to it."
"Really?"
"Yes, really," She was beginning to exasperate him. "It's simple actually, if you were cursed there are a few that can separate the soul from the body. Some of them are extremely lethal and cannot be reversed. But since you are talking to me and still are capable of emotion then you must be not completely dead."
"So I'm mostly dead?"
"If that's how you wish to put it, then yes, mostly dead."
"Oh. Can I come back to life?"
"If you find your body before you fade away, you can."
"Thank you, sir, you have been a huge help."
"You're welcome, my dear girl. I hope you find your body soon." No, he actually didn't, he wished she was dead, but Lord Voldemort did and that made all the difference as to what he wanted in life.
"I shall try to," the shade floated off the bench and thankfully away from him. He chucked the bag into a metal trash receptacle and kicked a few pigeons on the way down the street. It was people like her that made his life completely miserable. He hated Gryffindors. They were the low life scum of the universe.
Andy floated back to the clouds, a huge grin playing across her lips. She wasn't dead! Woo-hoo! She was alive! That was wrong. She was not alive yet; she still had to find her body. Who would know where her body was, if any body? She thought for a moment before coming to the conclusion that Albus Dumbledore, who knew everything about anything and then some, would be the best bet to locate what she was searching for.
That brought her to the next question: where was she to begin with? And how would she get to Hogwarts from where she was? That could pose some difficulties given that Hogwarts was un-plottable. She growled under her breath and spooked a nearby flock of geese. They honked at her, seeming perturbed that she interrupted their flight. Finding it amusing, Andy dove through the V-like formation, joining in with the birds and letting herself fly. She knew that there was hope for her now and that her life would not be wasted. People would not be forced to forget her once more like had been done in the past. She would not let them this time.
She followed the geese until it grew dark and they landed in a shallow pond. She did not recognize the pond, but she did know the village nearby. She had grown up near here. In fact, if she remembered correctly, which she usually did, her old house was…she flew another mile or so until she reached an older building. There were lights on inside and the voices of people could be heard through open windows.
Andy swallowed back a lump in her throat. She knew one of those voices. It had to be him, it just had to be. She peeked her head around the corner of a window shade and hoped the family would not notice. Most people seemed to be ignoring her as it was.
Yes, it was him. It was Ben, her brother. He was older, but it was still him. He had always been one of those people that did not change despite the years that had passed. He still had his dark hair from their mother's side and wore it in a long braid down his back. His dark eyes, the one physical trait they shared, sparkled in the glow of electric lighting. She could hear his ready laughter and the voices of others. Andy bowed her head for a moment, not knowing what to do. It was Ben, she was sure of that, but who else. She peered back through the open shutters into the dining room, this time. Six people sat around a large table eating and sharing their days' experience.
It was Ben at the head of the table. Around him were five children of various ages, obviously his children. A woman with short, auburn hair entered the room carrying a steaming dish. She set it down on the table and gave Ben a quick kiss on the cheek. Ben had gotten married, Andy realized, and she had missed it. A younger girl giggled at her parents' behavior while a few of the older siblings rolled their eyes. They seemed to be used to it by now. The woman uncovered the dishes before she sat down. A child's hand was swatted lightly as he attempted to steal a piece of bread. Ben began to lead the family in a prayer of thanks.
Andy turned her head again and floated back to the ground. She returned to the goose pond and sobbed quietly to herself. She had missed everything that had happened to her brother in those long years she had been penned away from the world. He had found someone he loved and gotten married and they had had four children that she could she. For all she knew there might have been more. And she had missed it all…
There was no use crying about something she could not change. She made her mind to go back there eventually, just to see him again. Yes, that's what she would do. She would take it upon herself to return. Right now, there other things she had to return to, like her body for instance. Now that she knew basically where she was, Hogwarts could not be that difficult to locate. It was north and so she spread her arms and flew.
Villages and people passed beneath her like pictures and still life's in moving color. At night, everything was shades of black, grey, and purple with tinges of blue every so often. A few lights were still on though they tended to flicker. Andy did not care. She was going home. It did not matter what it took to get there, but she was going back to where she had come from and that place was Hogwarts. That's where her answers would lie.
The castle came up quicker than she had expected. Bright lights echoed from many of the windows. Only few stayed dark and dismal, but that was to always be expected. Some of the rooms had yet to be found. By chance, she flew into the infirmary window, attracted by a sudden pull. There, on the bed, lay a body covered by a single white sheet. It looked dead.
It took her a moment to realize who it was. It was her. It was the body that she had been torn away from, the body she would return to. Andy placed her hand on the cold, pale face. Something inside sucked her into it. The world spun around her as if she had been pulled into a fierce vortex. The world snapped and Andy opened her eyes. She was free. She was alive. She couldn't move.
{Author's Note: And yet another cliffie… You guys really are going to kill me, aren't you? Oh, well, that's your problem, so hope you enjoyed chapter 7. I apologize for taking so long. I have been extremely busy. The play ended a two weeks ago so my boyfriend and I are no longer a married couple and the drama teacher cannot pick on us incessantly until the musical. In the mean time, I have had so many allergy appointments, its not even funny any more. They figured out that I'm allergic to a whole bunch of crap, except for penicillin and dogs. Wonderful, is it not? Yep, that's me for you. Have fun!
Dy: Yes, I can play a version of Moonlight Sonata. I think I was beginning to annoy my mom with it because she let me go out and get a new piano book. Which prelude to Opera 28? I found a sheet music site online and there's a whole bunch of them all numbered but not labled by name. I will look into it.
VMorticia: I can honestly say that I get the Anya thing. One of my friends decided that I was like Anya because I told her "You can't have him, he's mine," referring to my boyfriend. I like creep factors, they're amusing. "Genocidal Army Against Insects?" Oh, my…I could have way too much fun with that, though I like bugs. Bugs are fun. I talk to the spiders on my walls. They usually get named. But that's just me and we all know I have problems.
Shasa Perino: You weren't the only one who got confused. I got confused writing the whole thing.
Sora G. Silverwind: I think I've played part of the Lizst piece. I remember the name from one of my books. Malaguena is by Georges Bizet from his opera 'Carmen.' That's another fun piece to play. Personally, right now I'm working on Tchaikovsky's Nut Cracker and a bit of Jim Brickman, who's a jazz pianist.
Peace, Love, and Toe Socks, Nataly Ravenlock}