Harry Potter and the Baba Yaga.
A/N: The world and characters you recognize belong to Jk. The plot idea belongs to me. (I hope I did this right. If not- Don't Sue me!)
A/N 1: I have updated the previous chapter. Your reviews are much appreciated! Baba Yaga here will be different than whatever accounts portray her to be. One, she was ugly, here she won't be. Two, she lived isolated, here she won't. Thank You for the feedback 'Man of Constant Sorrow!'
"*When visitors arrive, Baba Yaga asks them if they came of their own accord or were sent. Smart visitors say they were sent. Coming of their own accord puts them in the witch's power; they are consenting to their own doom, so nothing can save them. They must also actively seek entrance by telling the house to turn its door to them. This concept is similar to the idea that a vampire (also an Eastern European legend) can't come into a home unless invited.*"
It was the time of celebrations all around Britain and as the dark mark vanished from various places, including the potter's home at Godric's Hollow. The dark mark on the forearm formerly brilliant black, was now reduced to faint outline. The power bestowed by the dark mark had gone and it no longer remain the symbol of power, of fear. The urge to do master's bidding was gone and they felt strange sense of loss that their master was with them no more! Who dared to destroy their master? Few death eaters chose to wreak havoc on various wizarding place and families.
Soon the reality of the situation set upon the death eaters. They would be hunted down, and possibly killed. Few chose to run from their native place but others came quietly and surrendered. Only when Lucius Malfoy, plead imperious and emptied his vault into newly elected minister of magic- Cornelius Fudge, others followed suit. The minister, while hungry for gold was not blind(not completely!) and could not let go the lestrange's for what they had done. He also believed the Lucius Malfoy for his defence. The ministry was in dire need of money and any donations were welcome. What happened at the Longbottom manor, was a one way ticket to Azkaban for them. Minister wouldn't take a bribe outright. They had killed a pureblood and drove Alice Longbottom insane. The world knew the horrors of what the death eaters could do and they were glad that most of them were sent away.
And somewhere beneath the sea, the cracks furthered and the stone slowly morphed into flesh. The smile of the witch became wider.
Albus Dumbledore wondered at the prophetic words uttered by Sybil Trelawney and a smile curled his lips. The dark lord had been vanquished; if he was reading his sense correctly, Voldemort would return again. Why he felt so? For one, there was no body of Voldemort left behind. It was as if he had lost significant amount of power or life. Secondly, the dark mark did not fade completely, his most valuable and trusted spy(Newly turned spy) had had showed his mark. Hence Dumbledore could safely presume that Voldemort was somewhere recovering, bidding his time only to come back to his former glory...uh... power.
And that time, Harry Potter will need someone to rely on, someone who would show the way to destruction of Lord Voldemort. Various ideas and plots formed in his head, as he patiently waited for Hagrid to return back at Hogwarts. He could feel the trusting eyes of Harry Potter on him as zoomed into the future when Harry Potter would come to Hogwarts. Together, him as grand master and Harry Potter as his trusted apprentice would once again destroy Lord Voldemort.
And hence he arrived at the idea of keeping him with the Dursleys. The decision solidified after the horrible betrayal of Sirius Black. The first thing that he did was to seal the will of James and Lily Potter. His long hair had stood on its ends, when Sirius Black was found laughing after destroying the whole street with a single curse. Only after brushing his hair repeatedly, the hair softened from its porcupine like state. No, he was safe with the Dursleys. Assuming that the sacrifice which Lily had offered to her son, coursed through Harry's veins, the sacrifice would be preserved if he stayed with his own blood relatives.
He disregarded Minerva's objections of 'worst muggles that she had seen in a long time', and left him at the doorstep of the Dursleys, leaving behind a detailed letter of what had happened. Moreover, Harry was a sweet child and he for the life of him could never imagine someone mistreating such child- a child of prophecy no less. And thus he paced leisurely in his office as he so often did and popped in another lemon sherbet.
Somewhere in the sea the witch was finally free! She disappeared in a flash and reappeared at a known place, only to find it void of life. Nothing was there for miles and miles, not even the trees. For a moment she stood there dumbfounded, at the loss of scenic beauty she had so often beheld in her memory. The next moment she went completely berserk.
"What trickery is this!" she screeched. She turned wildly in each direction to make head or tails of the situation. She let loose her magic to find if the place was hidden magically, but she didn't find a trace! She disappear again and reappear at another location familiar to her, and found herself at an edge of the town. As she inhaled the air, her thirst to drink the blood of the child increased further, and the memories of the past exploded within. The blood ritual which she'd so often performed, drained the child of its life force and magic. And with the extra power in her body, she was a force to be reckoned with. The feeling of absolute power was highly intoxicating, and somewhere beneath she yearned to do the rituals again, to be safe behind them.
"This will not do!" she said, startled to find a buzzing town and people dressed in strange dress. There was not a trace of magic in the town, and thus this was a muggle town. Both startled and irritated at the discovery of everything was not right as she had imagined. A strange feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, What if she was the only Witch left? What if they had killed every last witch or wizard. She shook her head as the implications of that thought settled in.
"This simply will not do!" For a moment she'd considered attacking the village but she knew she was weak. Her stomach churned and the pangs of hunger irritated her further. She had not eaten since a long time.
The effects of rituals which were done ages ago had faded, and she was at an unknown place. She left reluctantly, to find a place to follow the familiar scent of magic and appeared at a place where magic around her calmed her down. The gentle caress she felt, managed to drain her irritation away as she made her way into knockturn alley or so as the sign read. Hungrily, she made her way to a dark, dingy pub for a meal. To her pleasure, there were free meals today and everybody was too happy celebrating the death of the dark lord.
She piled on with whatever food she could grab with her gnarled hands, and devoured them furiously. Only after an hour of gobbling down food, she breathed a sigh of relief. They were rejoicing the fall of the dark lord, a name so feared now that they wouldn't speak of it. It couldn't be me, could it? She thought. She was the 'Dark Lady' after all. And if it were how wrong they would be, she thought. Whatever the festivities may be, she had an inexplicable desire to remain hidden, in the shadows and she obliged.
Upon concentrating, she changed her appearance to a peasant girl. She soon found it odd, and made her stand out in the crowd; she added the dress styles that people wore, it was all an illusion after all. And now she was walking out of the alley, onto a new one. She stopped at a strange shop and let her eyes roam around the surroundings. It was like a market place, she thought. But it was more defined and more 'set' she thought. Yes, that was it, as she bobbed her head in agreement to herself. Her eyes flicked to a store which had books piled up everywhere. She also noticed a sweet voice shouting excitedly,
"Read all about Harry Potter. Only 3 sickles worth! Read all about the Boy-Who-Lived!" The voice died down, as the boy walked past her. She managed to grab one of the papers when the boy wasn't looking. Squelching the urge to eat the boy then and there, she tried to read the headlines of the paper called 'The Daily Prophet'.
She was familiar with old English, but these strange English made little sense to her. After trying to read for a fifth time, her patience faded. She could barely concentrate by the moving pictures of the people. Every time they made a move, she feel threatened. She tucked away the paper in her sleeve and made her way into the shop. The shop-keeper too was rejoicing and gossiping in huddled groups. She did catch snippets of conversation.
"The boy survived killing curse! Powerful! Unbelievable! He's just a baby!" Witch took a sigh, as she browsed through the collection. Acting upon a whim, she waved her hand and all the books vanished from the shelves and she too disappeared afterward. The shopkeepers didn't notice a thing. Everything was different and she didn't feel comfortable with it. There was only one place which wouldn't have changed. She was eager to go there, a place which had the same value as now as then. Her home.
Baba Yaga appeared at front of her doorstep, her home, and smiled. One thing that was permanent was her home, and it was just like she had left. Earlier it was made up of wood and hay covered the top, but now it was of stone. The wards granted her entry and a strange sensation crawled up her spine as she looked around her house. The herbs and the beautiful garden she had cultivated, were dead. To a visitor the place was a measly cave, but for her it was a beautiful house. It was completely made of stone and it held firm by magic. She had carved sigils and runes on every floor and wall in her house. These helped her in channeling energy effectively and in various rituals she'd perform. It also strengthened the foundation stone in which all the wards she'd keyed. There was potions lab downstairs and she took great care in maintaining it. And in the far room of her house, there was the most complex signs and symbols confined in a small space.
She gently let her hand roam over the wall stone as if she was greeting an old friend. It had been far too long, since he had fled her house, and it was then everything had changed including her. She touched the skull hanged at the doorknob and it illuminated instantly.
"MISTRESS!" The skull choked, trying to cry in delight.
"How much time has passed since, Nuzzu?" She said, stiffly.
"More than millennia, mistress, more than one!" Skull cried, deliriously. Witch fumed. She had assumed she had been trapped for a long time but this was outrageous.
"Where are we, now?" she said seething. Behind her stood a tall dark building and seeing dark figures floating around. Anyone could guess what it was or where her home was.
"Great Britain, mistress." Nuzzu replied. The breath of the witch became laborious, and anger seeped in she was moments away from full blown rage.
"The land shifted my lady, and there was nothing I could do." Nuzzu said sadly.
"Is the land I claimed still mine?" she asked tight lipped.
"House certainly belongs to you mistress. But the surrounding island is now called Azkaban. Belongs to the 'Ministry.'
"My dragon? He still lives?" Witch asked on the verge of screaming.
"Dead mistress, died…." The skull didn't get to finish the sentence as the witch howled in anger. The blood-curdling scream could be heard for miles away and somewhere in the Azkaban, the Warden trembled.
After ranting and raving for days she calmed down, to manageable levels. Her thirst for blood increased daily but in an unknown area, it would be best to be familiar with it first, then to get caught. She knew hunger, from personal experience, and she could handle it, at least for now. She spent a week reading through the prophet. Finally getting grasp over the 'Horrible Language' as she put it, and read other books she had 'bought' from the shop. She found it below her taste, and only book she focused on was the history books. She had to re-acquaint herself with the events of the past after all. Only then, she could begin her accent to domination over the Europe and eventually world. As she thought about it, this was the perfect time, the 'Ministry' lay in ruins, and britain bled.
She had no particular interest in britain. She had never visited here, or 'never had chance to', she thought darkly and cursed the man who trapped her.
Coursing through 'Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts.' She noticed number of dark lords, born after her. It seemed the 'Baba Yaga' had made into the many books. She immediately became sad when they were all killed. Reading further, she was shocked that all those 'Dark Lords' had same things in common. They all proclaimed to be invincible, only to be fallen; like her. They all had terrible power and they all did horrible things- just like her, but in the end they all died or worse suffered fate worse than death; just like her, she added as she began comparing them to her.
And she sat there staring at nothing in particular. The only question going through her foggy mind was "Why? Why did they fall?". It was surreal to her and she could picture various of aforementioned people being 'put down'. History was repeating herself and now, she was scared. For her being killed or worse trapped was the worse thing that could happen. And she never again wanted to be trapped, to feel helpless. She was suddenly seized by sudden urge to kill, to drink one's blood-to do the rituals again to secure her near immortality state. But she held back, controlled her whims, for the first time she asked herself.
"Did she want to be Dark Lady, once again?" The life now felt suddenly empty and less meaningful to her. Before now, she had purpose, she had a goal, but now she was not so sure. Also, she noticed her whims and unwarranted desires and how she had no control over it. Once again, she read further to the book.
"Gellert Grindelwald was considered to be one of the most dangerous Dark Wizards of all time raised untold horrors through all of Europe. During his reign of terror, he murdered many wizards and Muggles. In 1945, at the height of his power, Albus Dumbledore confronted him due to the cries of the public and defeated him in what became a legendary duel. Grindelwald was subsequently imprisoned in his own prison Nurmengard for decades."
Her face frowned in disbelief. The book must be wrong! How is it every other Dark Wizard was brought down?! Was there no happy ending for them? It just seemed so fake to her that no one had achieved the glory that they had wanted. No matter how much powerful they were, they died in the end? Some would say that they deserved what they got, but Baba Yaga seemed perplexed. Was it meant to be so? she found herself asking. And as she again coursed through the book, she found that everyone had gone round the twist in attempt to seek power. It was never enough for them how much they had, and suddenly her own life was under her scrutiny.
History had a unique hold over the witch, and she always took care to learn from it, or change it. But this was entirely different. She was in a time, where she was no-one, and she certainly did not want to be chased again, in fear of her life. Yes, she had done rituals that would grant her near immortality, but still the she never knew peace after that. As the cobwebs cleared in her brain, she made a conscious decision. She would change, or at least not let her whims and desires dictate her. And for that she'll need to go through purification rituals.
She winced in pain, of one memory where holy water was sprinkled on her, and how it burned through her skin. It would be much more painful that just burning of the skin, the pain of all the harm and pain she'd caused will come biting back to her. Looking around her house, she remembered that feeling of what being at home brought, the peace and happiness.
She had not always been this way, she thought. When she had a home, she was beautiful young women with exception of battle scars here and there. She had a quiet and peaceful life, with her pet dragon. How she'd loved to chat with him, and enjoy the occasional rides on his back. She could sense the intention of various travelers and often took extreme measures so she would not be disturbed. No one understood how her mind worked and she hadn't bothered to find company amongst people. She used to be kind to people and would help them on various occasion, especially if it concerned their children. When the witch hunters came to burn her house, she had fled and vowed revenge on them. She did notice wizards amongst people, who had come to kill her. She had never been so hurt, so betrayed as before. She shook her head out of musing and walked around her house which no longer felt like home. She yearned for those days again, she yearned to be at home again.
She unlocked the cabinets to take out the ingredients needed for the purification rituals. The powerful preservations sigils that she drew on the cabinets had preserved most of the ingredients. She would have to buy whatever she didn't have. She vowed to change, she vowed to make this place a home.
A/N: Well this is just a filler in between the chapters. Ideas on how the story should progress are welcome! Also, since i'm not too sure of how the old magic was and some suggestions regarding various "Old Forgotten Powers" would be welcome... ;-) Don't forget to leave a review! It's nice to know what you've to say and its much appreciated!
Ps: I tried to include the link to websites from where i had borrowed info, but it got erased when I would save my work. Ah well, till next time!