Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I make no money off of this, please don't sue me.
WARNING: GORE ahead, graphic violence and lots of blood.
Chapter Fourteen: Blood and the First BornThe tiny wizarding community that sat just outside of Brighton was a sleepy place. Full of families intent on their holiday, none of the families realized that horror had come to their quiet place until far too late.
The hotel, which the Black family had stayed at during the start of the summer holiday, was the first hit. The power his God had given him was enough for the Priest to weave ancient spells around the entire perimeter. The witches and wizards inside had no warning what was about to befall them.
The night clerk's throat was slit by a sharpened rock that had once been a ceremonial dagger. Blood spurted from the wound, painting the Priest's face and neck. He licked his lips and swallowed, the coppery flavor reawakening taste buds long dead.
The first floor held a cornucopia of treats. Parents were bound by magic, their wands taken and snapped with derision. Wizards, the Priest knew little of such beings, aside from the fact that they were a threat. But the power that lay in them…That he knew for a certain. They fairly vibrated with the essence that would make his God strong again and restore his own failing flesh.
The children were herded to the small area behind the building. Hidden by tall bushes and a ward of silence, the sniveling brats were lined up against the fence. A few of the older ones had tried to fight back. The Priest had held them down and tore their throats open with his teeth, much to the delight of his God, who hovered over the area, soaking in the despair.
A fire pit was ideal, but the Priest made do with chairs and other objects that he could burn. The parents, who had been forced into submission, brought the necessary fuel for his fire. The children begged. The children pleaded. But the stiff movement of their parents did not falter, did not fail.
The fire was leaping higher than his head when he brought forth the first child. A pretty girl, with pale blond hair and dark eyes. He forced her onto the table, one meaty hand planted in the middle of her chest to keep her from escaping. Tears and snot ran down her face. Her parents stepped forward with a crook of a finger.
"Your new God bids you welcome," he whispered to them. Their steps faltered. The Priest frowned and pursed his lips. They are strong, he decided. He would need others for his following. He could not be fought. He was the Priest. His God would be his and his alone.
The parents arrived at his side. He forced the knife into the woman's hands. She was shaking her head. With his now free hand, he gripped the back of her skull. The power from his God channeled through him, lifting her arm. The blade was painted red, yellow and orange from the fire. It fell.
The child screamed. The blade rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell. The screams tapered off with every arch of the now-bloody blade.
Once the child was dead, he tossed the woman away. Scooping up the leaking intestines, he turned to the fire and raised them high. He brought the succulent organs to his mouth.
He feasted.
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Harry was asleep. He knew he was asleep. He remembered crawling under the covers, ignoring the snoring blond that was collapsed at the foot of his bed. It had been a good day. A peaceful day. A…he blushed. A very good day, he skipped over the kisses in the hothouse. He liked Draco. He liked him a lot. But half the time the idea that the blond liked him back, liked him liked him back, was enough to send him into a blush that would not fade for hours.
So he knew he was asleep, and that would be his excuse for the irate adults that were sure to be there when he awoke.
He was not on a Path. He had arrived in darkness, with no sense of up nor down, just the knowledge that he was there.
"Draco?" He tried to move forward, but the sense of being stuck washed through him. He looked down at his feet. He thought he could bend his knee. Move his foot. But there was nothing, no marker that told him if he was indeed moving or not.
No answer came. He rubbed at his face, trying to decide what to do next. Run, the memory of his Professor's words came back to him. Slytherins do not run into danger we do not understand, Mr. Potter.
He made a face at the tone, but agreed with the sentiment. Problem was, he couldn't move. There was no Door to leave by, no Path he could follow to get out.
I think I'm in the abyss, he wasn't disoriented by the dark that hovered around him. The fear he'd once felt in the place was gone. Now the aura felt watchful, almost…worried.
Why is it worried? He tried again to move. This time the world around him whirled, twisted by light and sound. He raised his hands to shield his head.
He was standing above a beach. There were fires raging through all the houses. A thick smell wafted through the air, turning his stomach. He wanted to wretch. He tried to vomit. It didn't work.
His disembodied spirit drew closer, though not by his choice. The Dark had him, and the Dark wanted him to See.
Bodies littered the sand. Some were whole, some were…not. Adults in various states of disarray soaked the sands red with blood. Some were still alive. And what they were doing…
One man had ripped his own tongue out and was burying it in the sand. Others had ripped out their eyes. One woman was digging her hands into her midriff, which was split open, the edges of the wound gaping like an obscene mouth. She was pulling handfuls of her stomach and other organs out onto the sand. She wept the entire time.
The utter foulness of the scene seared into Harry's memory. He pushed invisible hands at the horror, as though he could push the reality away by will alone.
No, he was screaming, but could hear no sound. Oh please, Merlin, no. Not again. This can't be happening again!
"Dream child?"
The Morrigan's voice was enough to jar him from the shock that was overtaking his brain. He turned to her and threw his spirit into her arms.
"Child, what are you doing here?"
"I – I –," he couldn't draw enough breath to speak.
"I followed my enemy's scent to this spot. I find horror instead of my prey, and then you. Child, what are you doing here?" How she was with him, in the Dark, Harry did not know, but was grateful for her presence.
"I don't know. I was asleep! It brought me here…"
"What brought you here?" Warm, strong arms held him tight.
"The Dark."
The hands on his back went still. "An interesting development."
He pulled back to see her face. The carved alabaster of her skin was shaded by moonlight. Her dark hair was still as wild as ever, but her eyes, her eyes battled fatigue and rage all at the same time.
"What's wrong?"
She blinked and the rage was gone. "I do not know, my dream child. I wish I did."
"Who would do such a thing?" Harry shivered. "Voldemort did, but he's dead! He has to be dead!"
"The man who was bound to you," she touched the fading scar on his skin, "his presence is not here. But another's is." A line appeared between her brows. "I must go, child. Before the scent fades again."
"But…"
"Sleep, child." She leaned forward and touched her lips to his forehead. "Go back to your body and sleep."
"But…" But the Morrigan's will was enough. The Dark relinquished its hold on him. Harry's world went white.
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The boy's body arched off the bed. Draco had Harry's head cradled in his lap, a hopeless, lost look in his eyes. Severus had the boy's legs. Lucius tried his best to keep the narrow chest flat, but even they were thwarted by the magic than ran though the boy's veins.
They had been woken by Harry's screams. For one, long terrifying moment, Severus had lain in bed, wondering if all the years had been a dream, and that he was back in Voldemort's service, in the middle of a raid and had taken a stunner.
But Lucius' warm body next to him jarred him back to the right place and time. Not bothering with more than a robe, they had flown down to the boy's bedroom to find Draco already there.
Blood soaked the sheets. Where does the boy get all this? Severus knew there was a limit to how much a body could hold. He worried that Potter was close to bleeding out.
Some came from the boy's mouth. Harry had bitten his own tongue while thrashing. Some leaked from his eyes. The rest…Severus looked, but could not find the source. He refused to admit that fact scared him.
With a last, horrifying scream, the boy went limp. Draco pounced, twisting around while holding Harry's head in his hands.
"Harry?" He leaned in close. "Harry, come on. Wake up." Severus noted the older boy was shaking. "Please?" The wavering note made him turn his head away.
The body beneath their hands coughed. A wet, rattling sound worked its way from his chest. Lucius leapt off the boy, even as Severus let go of his legs. Harry turned onto his stomach and tried to vomit. Little emerged but a watery trickle of what they'd had for supper.
"Harry!" Draco was off the bed and at his side. Harry gripped the blond's arms and tried to speak.
"Need…P-P-Prof'sser…"
"He's here, Harry."
"Your…dad…"
"Harry, what…" Draco helped the boy into a sitting position.
"Beach…" Harry twisted his head and managed not to hit the blond as his stomach tried to expel some imaginary intruder. Or memory, Severus' mind whispered.
"Harry?" Lucius knelt at the boy's side. Severus was there in an instant.
"Blood…" Harry reached out and grabbed for Severus. My heart did not twist, he snarled to the whispering voices in his head. He merely needs to…
"Massacre," Harry buried his face in the Professor's chest. "To the…south. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"Harry?"
"I…" He twisted his head to look at Draco. "I didn't…mean to go. The Dark…" Harry's eyes were beginning to glaze. "The Dark took me. I'm sorry…"
"It's alright, Harry." Draco was close to pulling the boy from his grip. Severus refused to let go. After all, he reached for me. He didn't know this feeling spreading through his chest. He attested the warmth to Potter's tears.
"Blood…on the…beach…" Was the last thing Harry said before slipping into unconsciousness. Severus held on for a few seconds more. Then he lifted the body away from the floor, cradling it in his arms.
"We need to get the room cleaned," was the first thing out of his mouth. He didn't know why.
"The room? The room! Who cares about the room! Let the house elves deal with it." Draco was all but hopping from foot to foot. "Blood on the beach. Why was he raving about…" Draco's eyes went wide. Severus saw Lucius reach for his son.
"There must have been another attack." Draco bowed his head a few inches. "But why…" He narrowed his eyes. "The Dark." A snap of the fingers had both adults flinching. Draco reached for Harry. "Please. I need him. We have to go."
"You are not going anywhere." Lucius wrapped a hand around his son's forearm.
"We have to," Draco shook his head. "I know where we need to go. We have to find Pythia. We need her."
"You are not going alone."
"Then how…" Draco began to erupt. Then he got a long look at his father's face. "Fine. But you mustn't over react. I don't know if we'll even get to her. But there's a place where I know we can get to first."
"Where?"
Draco's eyes flashed with a power Severus could not name. "Cnoc an aon Chriann." Magic shuddered through the room. The house elves, who had been cleaning the mess, yelped and disappeared. The outline of the doorway leading to the hall was a blazing line of silver light.
"Draco, how did you…"
"No time." He took Harry from Severus' loose hold. The Potions Master all but snatched him back. Then the blond was off, heading for the door.
Severus spared a look at his lover, but Lucius only had eyes for his son. They were on his heels, their robes half soaked with blood and other liquids, passing through a Door neither had ever been through in their life.
Severus had one moment to be terrified. The next moment, the world changed.
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The last weeks of Scrimgeours's position as Head Auror were turning out to be bloody ones. He was still confident that he would take the Minister's office, but he was not about to give up his position in the Auror office before the vote came. Just in case.
Rufus had thought he had seen horror in Ireland. The scene that was before him was beyond everything he could have imagined.
Healers were running about the beach, trying to save those they could. Most of the adults were dead before help could reach them. One woman, whose insides lay on the golden-red sands about her, gasped her last breath as Rufus held her hand. It was a memory he could have done without.
The same Unspeakable that had been in Ireland was there. The man – Rufus still did not know his name – was going from one body to the next, casting a spell the Auror had never heard before. With each cast, the man had grown more and more angry.
He stopped before the man Rufus had found lying near some rocks. He was a middle-aged man, with a head of hair that was thinning in the front. He had gouged out his eyes. His legs were broken in a variety of places. There was little hope for him, Rufus had heard one of the Healers say.
"What's his name?" The Unspeakable didn't even look at Rufus.
"I don't know."
The man crouched down next to the victim. A wand pointed at the man's head fired a spell before Rufus could react. The man went stiff, his grip crushing the Auror's hand.
"State your name."
"William Maxwell."
"Are you a wizard, Mr. Maxwell?"
"Yes."
"What happened here?"
"I – I…" The man tried to shake his head. Blood began to seep from the ruins of his eyes. "He came. We never heard the wards. They didn't go off like they should have."
"Who came?"
"The man."
"What man?"
"The man!" Mr. Maxwell convulsed. "He cast spells! We couldn't do anything! Oh Cindy, Cindy, Cindy…"
"Who's Cindy, Mr. Maxwell?"
"My – my daughter."
"What happened to your daughter?"
"He…he killed her!"
"He killed her?"
"He made us kill her! He had the knife! It rose and fell, rose and fell…" The man broke off, sobbing.
"Stop this," Rufus hissed at the Unspeakable.
"Be silent, Auror." The other man's eyes were devoid of emotion. "I will get my answers. Mr. Maxwell, do you know who did this?"
"No."
"Did you recognize anyone you saw?"
"Just the others…and the boy."
Rufus felt a cold chill run up his spine. The Unspeakable's eyes glittered. "What boy?" The man asked.
"The boy…he was in the air! And the crow! They were watching us! They did nothing!"
"Who was the boy?"
"I don't know!" Maxwell's voice was starting to fade. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know…"
"Was it Mr. Potter, Mr. Maxwell? Maxwell?" The Unspeakable reached forward to grasp the man's face. His thumbs dug into the pale cheeks. "Maxwell, answer me!"
"He's gone, man!" Rufus tried to break the man's hold. "You and I both know it couldn't be Mr. Potter. How dare you make such a…"
The Unspeakable turned on him. Rufus found himself flying several feet back, with a sore jaw to boot. The man was panting, his hands curled into fists at his side.
"This is not some Death Eater work, Scrimgeour. This is the work of a Dark Lord, a twisted, evil mind. It's using the gods to betray us!" The narrow chest rose and fell with each panted breath. "Can't you see it? We've all sinned. We've all turned our backs to the truth. This is the fault of the ones who brought the old gods back. And that means Harry Potter is the one who did this." The Unspeakable rose to his full height. "I will end this, Scrimgeour, one way or the other. Don't get in my way."
Rufus watched the man go with wide, horrified eyes. This is getting out of control. He rolled to his hands and knees, still feeling faint. I need to warn them all. This has to be contained. He set his jaw, wincing at the forming bruise. Perhaps my time in the office has gone long enough. I need to make a stand. The wizarding world needs to know what's going on. He stood, brushing off the fine grains of sand from his robes. "You're right," he muttered to the man's retreating back. "One way or the other, this will end."
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Draco held Harry tight in his arms. He could feel his father and Severus enter through the Door at his back. He waited long enough for them to get their bearings, and then he was off, striding down the dirt road that led to the sleepy row of huts.
"Gwenn?" The hut he remembered was silent. He kicked at the door with one foot. "Gwenn?"
The door swung open. It was Merle that faced him, instead of the goddess he'd been expecting. Draco swallowed back a yelp of fear.
"Hello, Merle," he said. The moss covered man stared at him with unreadable eyes. "I need to speak to Gwenn. It's important. Please?"
Merle rumbled at him. Draco tried not to flinch. Then the man reached forward and grasped Draco, pulling him inside. Merle put his body between him and the two adults left outside.
"Draco? Draco!" He could hear his father's voice.
"I'm fine," he called past the bulk that blocked his view. "Merle, that's my father. He's a good man. That's Severus with him. They're both good people. Let them in? Please?"
Merle did not move.
"Please?" He didn't care that he was a hair's breadth from begging. Harry was unresponsive in his arms. "Merle, Harry's hurt. I need Gwenn's help to get him to Pythia. And I need them to come to. So, please…"
"Draco?"
The sound of the goddess' voice almost brought him to tears. He turned, Harry still laying limp in his hold.
"Gwenn, I need your help."
The goddess strode up to him, wiping her hands with a rough towel. "Give him here, lad. Merle, move. Let the nice men in." Her strong arms took Harry as though he weighed nothing at all. Merle moved with a low rumble, just far enough so that Lucius and Severus could squeeze through.
"What happened?" Gwenn snapped her question at him. Draco knelt next to her. She'd laid Harry out on the hearth, her hands gently arranging his body.
"He said he was taken by the Dark to see something." Draco wiped at the blood on his hands. "He said there was blood on the beach. Something happened, or will happen, I don't know. We need to get to Pythia. She can help him."
"Greeks," Gwenn muttered. A basket full of unmarked jars appeared at her elbow, as if she had summoned them. She cast a glance at the other men in the room. "Who are they, young lad?"
"My father, Lucius. That's my…godfather, Severus." He wasn't about to go into the convoluted story between the two men. It would keep for another time. "What's wrong with him? Can you help us? He was fine when we came here before…"
"He'll be right as rain, dear." She uncapped a small jar and waved it under Harry's nose. The smaller boy made a face and groaned. "There we go. He'll feel a bit under the weather for a while. Being taken by the Dark does that to a body."
"Then you know what happened?"
She shook her head and sat back on her heels. "Not exactly. It's been millennia since we've had a Dreamer here as powerful as he is. The Dark is a strange thing, lad. It's alive, but not alive. I'm sure your teacher can tell you more."
"Can you get us there?"
Her sharp gaze raked him over. Then she nodded. "Yes. It'll take some doing, though, I warn you." She stood and wiped her hands off on her skirts. "Take the Dreamer, lad. You two," she turned her attention to the adults. "Come with me."
She pushed her way past Merle and into the dusty street. Draco followed close on her heels. Severus and Lucius had yet to say a word, for which Draco was grateful. He knew the situation was well out of their bounds of comfort. Both of the men could get a bit grumpy when that happened. The last thing they needed was an irate goddess of Motherhood taking his father and his father's lover to task.
They passed the other huts that lay along the small road. Draco couldn't help but peek at them as he hurried to keep up. But the doorways stayed shut and the windows were dark, showing no signs of life.
"Here," Gwenn stopped at the far edge of the small village. "The Path forks here. The right fork will take you to a Market. The left leads into the Dark and then stops." She turned and placed her hands on Draco's shoulders. "Take the left fork and follow it until it stops. When you get to the end, make a Door, do you understand?"
"No," he shook his head. "We haven't covered that…"
"Use your fathers as anchors. You'll need their strength. If your Dreamer were awake, the both of you could do this. But he's too tired to try this, and the Dark would only end up taking him again. Anchor your mind to them." She stared into his eyes. "Use their power to reach and find the place you wish to go. Do you understand?"
"I…think so." He gulped down a breath. "Can't you help us?"
"No, child. I can't." She leaned forward and kissed his brow. "Go now, before the Dark becomes aware you're here. If it's taken him once, it'll be able to do it again. You'll be safe with your Greek until she can teach you how to guard against it. Go now." With a gentle push, she prodded him down the path.
"And the two of you," she waggled a finger at the adults. "Do as he says and don't argue."
Draco didn't hear if they replied. He hurried down the left hand Path, into the Dark. With each step they took, the more the gray fog began to wrap around them. The lighted trail grew dimmer the further they went.
"Draco," Severus had a hand on his shoulder. "I can take him."
"No," Draco pulled Harry closer to his chest. "You heard Gwenn. The Dark could take him."
"I am stronger than you, Draco."
"Not in this." He didn't have time to battle with the Potions Master. "Father?" They'd come to the end of the Path. Draco could feel the presence of the Dark begin to grow.
"Yes?" Lucius was at his side.
"Take hold of my other shoulder." The older blond didn't question him. Together, with the two wizards anchoring his body, Draco closed his eyes and let out a long breath.
I need to find the cave, he let his mind reach out. The Dark was beginning to stir around them. He could hear the adults' breath quicken. He knew he didn't have much time.
The cave, the cave, the cave, the thought chanted through his mind. The cave with the fire. The man Homer. Pythia and her chair of white stone. The Cave. It didn't have a name. Or did it? His eyes opened at the thought. He stared into a rolling wave of the Dark, headed their way. Their time was up.
"Delphi," he said. The Door flared up before them. The adults dragged him through before he could blink.
The Dark washed over the empty space, the presence of the Dreamer lost to it.
End Chapter 14