Chapter eighteen: the lost city rediscovered
In the space of a single hour, Harry Potter and his companions had destroyed most of the Death Eaters under her command. Natasha Lestrange, herself nursing countless minor injuries, though she had allowed one of her followers to purge the spider's venom from her blood, was amazed. Amazed at his capacity for chaos, for destruction. It was a wonder he was working for the side he did. If one were to retrace the trail of human wreckage left in his wake, it would appear as though the dark lord himself had been reincarnated.
And it only made her respect him all the more.
And it also made her want to kill him.
She knew Potter had killed her father, had known it for as long as she could remember. Yet neither of her parents had truly taken on any parental qualities, and for that received far less of her love and grieving. Yet, it was almost as if the same event had occurred again. Dovchenko was dead, the closest thing she had had to a true paternal figure in this life. He was dead, and she had watched Harry kill him. That made it all the worse, she had seen them fight. A for all fairness, Dovchenko should have won. But Harry had cheated, and she had watched her second in command, the man who had taught her all about the Death Eaters, destroyed. A seething mass of infant acromantulas transforming him into nothing but a slab of meat.
Natasha felt an unfamiliar emotion, and banished it. There was no time for such thoughts now. The tables had been turned. Harry Potter had a head start. Harry Potter had the crystal skull. But she had twenty Death Eaters; the rest had been either killed, by the spiders, in the chase, or had been simply left behind. These were the remnants of her followers, the last, and the best.
The enemy was outnumbered, but they had the advantage of time, of the crystal skull, of insurmountable luck. But it was not nearly time to say die, no matter the odds, as long as she still lived and breathed.
It had never stopped Harry, after all.
The climb up the cliff face was not the worst Harry had ever endured. However, without climbing gear, and with their previously accumulated injuries present, it was still trying. Still, the rock was rough with handholds and jagged edges, making the climb easier.
Harry spent much of the climb beside Ginny, pacing himself. Neville was the first to reach the caves, despite carrying the skull within its worn cloth sack; he climbed quickly and efficiently, much better than he would have in his customary state of mind. James was next, but when they reached the caves, clustering inside, Mundungus was waiting for them. "Apperation," he said, waving his wand pointedly.
"I should have thought of that," Ginny grumbled, as she pulled out her own wand, stolen from the late Dovchenko, and lit it. The pale green glow illuminated the cavern.
Harry realized that between five people, they had a total of two wands. Not a ratio he approved of.
Both of the eye sockets led into the same cave like two oddly shaped windows. Inside, a roughly hewn tunnel lead deep into the darkness, sloping upward. There was water on the floor, and the place smelt of damp and moss.
"What are we waiting for?" Mundungus asked, as the others caught their breath. "Let's go get some gold." And the shabby man set off along the corridor; much more cheerful now that his prize was so close, and there were no longer Death Eaters trying to kill him.
They followed Mundungus in silence for a moment, Harry noticed Neville looked please, and took that to mean they were going the right way.
"Look at this," James suggested, he had stopped beside a smoother patch of the wall. On it, a primitive mural. It depicted many dark-skinned human figures crouching on the ground, clearly in discomfort.
"It must be thousands of years old," Ginny breathed, awed by the age, if not the craftsmanship.
"Then how come the paint's still fresh," James said, running a finger over the stone.
"I don't like this," Mundungus warned. The four of them hurried to catch up with Neville.
The odd professor had stopped beside another, larger mural. It showed the same group of humans, this time looking upwards in awe. And descending from the sky, a silhouette, bathed in light. A humanoid form, but not a human own, reminiscent of some depictions of Christ's fabled second coming, more so than Harry would like to think.
"Someone came," said Harry, in explanation. He had already guessed at what the pictures represented. It was a historical record, dating back millennia.
The next picture was larger, taking up at least ten feet of wall. It was the people seen before, but they were not at the same time. The people were building, constructing huge towers. They were farming, and hunting. And in the center, the source of this enlightenment, one of the visitors. Its elongated cranium exactly matched that of the crystal skull, Harry realized, tracing it with his fingers. No one spoke.
They reached a fourth wall painting. It featured thirteen of the visitors, sitting in a circle. In the center, one of the people, the Ugha, Harry realized. The thirteen were focused on the man, waves of energy blasting from their eyes into him, bathing him in light.
"They didn't just help us, they changed us," Harry realized.
"That's horrible," Ginny blanched.
"I'm not sure it was," an idea was already forming in his mind, but Harry did not wish to think of it.
After this, the tunnel opened out into a wide circular chamber. This painting surrounded them entirely, painted around the room. It was far more realistic, but Harry wasn't sure he appreciated it, the subject was horrific.
It was scene of destruction, of blood and terror. Faceless figures in silver armor wreaking havoc on the Ugha. Curved blades fell, mutilating bodies. Clouds of blood burst up from the discharge of their guns. Women and children, men young and old, all fought against the monstrous invaders, all were killed. Behind, the forest burned, the stone buildings ransacked.
"The conquistadors," James confirmed, quietly. Harry felt guilty that he had to see this, no more guilty than that he had been nearly killed multiple times by wizards twice his age and experience, as well as nearly being torn apart by the local flora and fauna. Still, Harry had no choice. His son was in this nearly as deep as he.
They would just have to aim for the surface.
"One was taken," Ginny, continued the story, looking upward. Harry followed her gaze. There, in the center of chaos, were the circle of thirteen. Yet one of them, in the middle, was missing its head. Despite the Ugha's obvious pleading, the visitors did nothing to stop the massacre. They were untouched, unaware, dead.
Harry looked away, feeling sick. Neville held up the sack pointedly, indicating the mural. The crystal skull was finally being returned.
"Let's get this done," he said, quietly. And he walked out of the room, without looking back.
The next room was a rotunda; the walls unpainted, but adorned with the faces of demons, carved into the rock, their blank hollow eyes staring out at Harry. Illuminating the room was sunlight, pouring from an open passage. Neville was already standing in the light on the platform outside, examining the stairs leading downward.
"I already hate this city," James mumbled. Joining the others in the circular room. "At least its deserted."
One of the demon faces fell out of the wall, the stone mask shattering on the floor. Then the walls exploded outward. Shadowy figures crawled out of the rubble, closing in on them. Mundungus screamed, Ginny swore, Harry groaned, "Not again."
A flash of light lit the darkness, hitting James in the shoulder. He was thrown onto his back, landing hard on the stone floor. One of the figures landed on his chest, with crushing weight. Its hands curled around his neck, not strangling, but crushing.
Harry appeared behind the attacker, and brought both his hands down on the person's neck. His son's attacker lost his grip, stunned, and Harry shoved him away, into another of the people from the walls.
Harry seized James arm, and pulled the boy after him out into the light. Into Akator.
The city took Harry's breath away. It lay in ruins, shattered stone choked with growing vegetation, but the sheer size and scope of the buildings was unheard of for ancient South America. The buildings were not made of gold, but of stone. The ground was lush and green, half-working aqua ducts navigated the city.
Akator was located in a sort of bowl, cliffs reaching up on every side. On was a dam of stone, beyond it a lake of calm, sparkling water. In the center of the city was its tallest structure, a pyramid of brown stone. Harry knew instantly that that was their destination. That was where the skull needed to be.
Harry and James flew down the stairs. Behind them, their attackers, regurgitated by the walls inside, emerged into the light. They were not welcoming.
The men and woman were small, but well built, their dark eyes glinting in the sun. Their hair was either shaved, or twisted and long, snarled and dirty. Their bodies were adorned with jewelry of cords and animal bones, their only clothing consisting of rough animal skin, bound together. Their skin was dark, blackened by sunlight, but painted with white and pale shades of green and brown. Peircings of fangs and thorns hug from their ears, their noses, all over their bodies. But most terrifying of all, they carried no weapons, no blades, no wands. Yet jets of energy, of raw magic, flew from their hands without a word.
They were the Ugha, Harry realized. The ancients of Akator, yet not the gifted industrialists they had become. Without the visitors to guide them, they degenerated into savages.
Harry reached the foot of the stairs. But they were already surrounded, more of the Ugha appeared from the ruins of the city. There had to be at least fifty in all, added to the twenty or so behind them.
Harry's calculations were interrupted, as a jet of magic hit in the back, slamming him onto the ground. Immediately, two of the natives were upon him, tearing at him with their bare hands. Harry drove his elbow into one of their faces, felt the woman's jaw crack. But as she spun away, the other grabbed Harry's head and rammed his face into the dirt, covering his glasses with sand.
James dove at the man, knocking him off Harry, and away into the crowd. Harry got to his feet, to see Ginny seized from behind. The Ugha tore at her hair, until, screaming, she blew him away with a jinx. Beyond her, Mundungus was holding his own, fighting of attackers with a mixture spells and blows. Neville dodged through the battle, untouched.
James was seized beside Harry. Harry rushed to help him, but was set upon by another of the natives. As he struggled against the stronger man, Harry could only watch James fight against his captors grip.
Harry landed a punch across his opponents jaw, but the man let loose another blast of magic. It hit Harry at point blank range, tearing through his shirt, sending him back into the arms of another Ugha warrior. As the man held him tightly, a woman jumped onto him, digging her heels into his chest, trying to gouge out his eyes. Harry fought her off momentarily, by head butting her in the face. But he knew he was fighting a losing battle.
"Wand!" he shouted in desperation for the tool he so desperately needed.
He was as surprised as anyone when, as requested, a magical piece of wood sailed through the air toward him. Ginny had thrown it, hearing his cry, and now set on her attackers with her fists.
Harry tore on of his arms out of the man's hold and caught the wand.
"Flipendo!"
The woman was sent flying backwards, slamming into some of her fellows. Harry tore out of the Ugha's grip, and stunned him. He sent a jet of blue flame flying into the face of the man holding James. The boy slipped away, and was lost within the flurry of magic and fighting.
James saw Neville seized by a particularly bulky Ugha, and lifted into the air by his neck, his feet inches above the ground. As before, the man still did nothing.
"Wand," James called, following his father's example. Mundungus instinctively flung his own weapon to the boy.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
James caught the wand and with a single motion, and used it to save the professor, rendering the man immobile. Mundungus elbowed a warrior in the gut, and then floored the man with a kick to the crotch, proving himself surprisingly adept at fighting barehanded. Survival, of course, was worth almost as much as gold.
"Wand," this time the shout was raised by Ginny, who was being overrun, blood running down her face from a fresh cut. James threw the wand to her, as he ducked under the grab of an Ugha.
Ginny, catching the wand, spun, blocking a blast of magic, before cursing its source. Another jet of magic hit in the arm, searing through the thin cloth of her shirt, scorching her flesh. The wand fell from her grip, rolling directly into Harry's hand. He straightened up, and delivered two instantaneous curses, knocking out two attackers at the same time, before hurling the wand back to Ginny.
Ginny tossed it back to James, saving him from decapitation, and kicked up, catching an Ugha warrior in the chest with the heel of her sneaker.
As Mundungus shouted "Wand!" Harry threw it to him, allowing him to drive off a particularly enthusiastic warrior. Wandless, Harry felled an attacker with a single punch, and charged back into the battle.
Each foe merged into the next, as the two wands circled between the four companions. Every time an Ugha was dispatched, by fist or spell, another sprang in to take its place. Harry hoped that they were simply coming back for more, that there weren't really that many warriors.
They were holding their own, but they were also fighting a losing battle, and they weren't getting any younger. Harry needed to bring a quick end to the fight, before they were overwhelmed. The final blow came when the wand in Harry's hand broke in half under the force of repelling an enemy spell.
He ducked and weaved through the sea of natives, "Neville," he shouted, getting the man's attention.
"Harry James Potter!" Neville exclaimed happily.
"How'd you get past them, Neville? We're going to die, you have to help us."
Neville raised an eyebrow, and waved the cloth bag pointedly, Harry cursed himself as he realized how simple it had been. He threw his wand to James, who needed it, and planted a quick shove to a native woman, as he sprinted toward Neville.
Harry wrenched the bag from Neville's hand, tearing it. He yanked out the crystal skull, and held it above his head. As it had with the spiders, the skull caught the light, glinting, multifaceted rainbows reflected across its face.
In unison, the Ugha stood down. They melted back into the ruins, disappearing from view. Apparently, they approved of the skulls return.
Harry slowed his breathing calming himself. He put the skull under his arm, and this time Neville did not snatch it back.
"Well, that was interesting," Ginny groaned, holding her leg, a bloody gash torn into her thigh.
Harry looked away, as she began to heal it with one of their wands. "There," he said, pointing at the summit of the pyramid. "That's where we're going."
"Not another climb,' James sighed.
The walk to the pyramid went quickly, Harry knew he was purposefully hurrying, in case the Ugha changed their minds, or they were presented with another, worse, defense. His worries were unfounded, however, as they reached the pyramid without incident.
Thankfully, while there was no entrance at the structure's base, there was a flight of stairs carved into the rock, making the ascent that much easier. They climbed in silence, anticipating their goal.
At the pyramids apex, there was a flat square of stone. In its center, the base of a pillar. Above that, the pillar split apart into four horizontal stone structures, pointing off to the four corners of the compass. And there was no entrance.
"But there's got to be a way inside," Harry thought aloud, circling the pillar. He found no way in on the other side either.
Harry glanced at Neville, who shook his head, sadly. "Neville made it this far," he realized, "But he couldn't get in. that's why he came back."
"To lay their hands on that golden key that opes the palace of eternity…" said Neville quietly.
"Golden key, that sounds real good about now," Groaned Mundungus, sitting down heavily. "Some city of gold. I see the city, but no bloody gold. No treasure, just a bunch of bloody Indians."
"But this is South America…" James began, but stopped when he saw his mother glare at him. It was best to leave Mundungus to his racist complaints, while they did the real work.
Harry ran a hand along the pillar, and jerked his hand away when he saw a glint of gold. He scrapped off the layer of grit and vegetation to reveal a gold circle, about the size of a dinner plate, set into the wall of the pedestal.
"That's more like it," said Mundungus.
"Lay their hands on the golden key," Harry breathed. He looked down at the skull in his hands, warm to the touch. The gold square was the lock, and he, his hands were the key. The skull had chosen him, the chosen one. It had spoken to him, without driving him insane. It had helped every step of the way. And in the back of his mind, whether from the skull or not, he felt a glint of approval.
Harry handed the skull to Ginny, "Just for a moment," he said. She nodded, and hugged it to her chest.
Harry took a deep breath, and then laid both his hand, palms first, on the gold circle.