Author's
Notes: "Have you ever noticed
that there is no thirteenth floor? Well, between me and you,
folks, it's on the fourteenth." - a comedian that Moirae has
forgotten the name of that she was watching the other night on
comedy. I normally don't like doing author's notes, but I
have no choice :P There's a few things that I must address:
First, a short lesson in Japanese so this upcoming scene isn't totally
confusing; Kanji is the third alphabet in Japanese. -san is added
to the end of male or female names and -kun to the end of males to show
respect and/or friendship. The chamber that the upcoming scene is
taking place in what modelled from a ceremonial tea room that I was in
last Easter while in Japan. The mystic, Miss Coco . . . her name
was inspired by the Drag Queen on "Trick"--Miss Coco Peru.
Hmm . . . I think that pretty much covers it. Thanks to those who
have read and reviewed. If you are enjoying this, please let me
know with a review. If you aren't, please let me know how it
could be improved.
Chapter Fourteen : Riddles
"I know what it is you seek, but I know not if I can help you," Miss Peru, Japanese mystic, replies with an airy tone about her. She is an elderly woman. Wrinkles grace her olive skin, but her hair is still as black as the night and cascades to the middle of her back. She is wearing a ceremonial silk kimono, navy blue with silver nightingales flying across the fabric. It's tight-fitting as she kneels with her stomach sucked in, resting on her socked feet.
"We weren't sent with high hopes, Peru-san," Severus Snape replies, bowing his head respectfully towards his elder. He is wearing an inexpensive forest green kimono, very plain and void of any decoration. His shoulder-length hair is pulled neatly back into a ponytail, and his chilled hands are folded respectfully on his lap. It's customary to wash them, as well as the face, from a flowing fountain outside before entering the sacred chamber.
Beside him sits a very uncomfortable Igor Karkaroff, in a black kimono that itches his skin. His dark eyes dart around the room, and his white hair is in need of a slight trimming. Next to him sits the beautiful Fleur, in a silver kimono to match her beauty and hair, which hangs loosely over her shoulders. She sits awkwardly in attendance, not knowing what it is she's supposed to be doing.
Miss Peru nods her head in understanding before turning her attention towards a small wooden box sitting before her. Sliding the top open, she places it gently to the left and withdraws her set of tarot cards. She begins to shuffle them, letting her eyes wander to each of the three foreigners before dragging them around the small room. The tan walls are vacant of all ornamentation, save for the tokonoma--an alcove in the corner that houses a large bamboo scroll. Upon the scroll are cherry blossoms that bleed white blood, and black Kanji that spells out a phrase only the mystic can understand.
Miss Peru then places the cards vertically in front of her, and with her index finger of her left hand, she fans them out into a complete circle. "Please, select one card," she instructs the wizards and witch.
Slowly, Fleur leans forward to select a tarot card from the middle of the fan. She places it upside down opposite her, and stares at the two cats intertwined with each other, forming a sort of yin-yang. Secondly, Karkaroff does the same. He glances at his card before dropping it to the floor, scoffing. Severus then selects the top card from the fan, and doesn't have time to look at it before Miss Peru gathers them.
"Thank you." And she places them before her in the form of a diamond, adding a fourth card, the one she singled out, as the peak. She takes the remaining cards and sets them aside in case she must interpret one for the reading.
Turning the card placed at east over first, she reveals The Fool--a card possessing a fiery youth with a fat orange cat biting at his ankles. She gapes at it for several moments in silence, then raises her head to explain the significance to her visitors. "The Fool is a man without direction; he drifts through life undisciplined and frivolous. He resides in the east, but knows nothing about the world around him. Cares and worries that would normally beset a mature person never jade him."
Miss Peru then flips the card placed at the west, and the alliance remains silent for lack of something else to do. The tarot card revealed is The Devil--a clothed figure with two cats, one black and one orange, waiting at his heels. They hiss and scratch, and must be kept within a force field managed by The Devil. Miss Peru frowns, cautiously going about the explanation of this card. "The Devil is seductive and powerful; it is an evil that hides but always shows itself. He has no identity, but I see that your devils have fire and white hair, and one will be tested. Hope that he does not fail, for it would mean your salvation will not come to pass."
"Isn't there more you can tell us?"
"It's irrelevant, Severus," comes Karkaroff's voice. "It's obvious the devil we face is none other than Lucius Malfoy. This is pointless." He crosses his arms, not holding much respect for the good mystic. Divination is something that he has never believed in. Even now, she speaks in riddles that make no sense to him.
"Please continue, Peru-san." Severus shoots Karkaroff an icy glare.
Miss Peru sighs heavily and shakes her head; there have been people who mistrust her third eye, but they've never sat before her and asked for a reading. Nevertheless, she continues and flips the card placed north to reveal The Tower--a large structure in the shape of a cat that cracks at the neck with a bright white light. Without words, she turns the card placed south, which is Death, and places it over the northern card horizontally to form a cross. "Death becomes The Tower. But choose wisely, for this Death represents all the card is not."
Karkaroff coughs, which oddly sounds like crackpot! and shifts position on the cloth floor. Severus rolls his eyes at his companion but does not wish to start an argument, so he remains calm. Drawing his attention back towards the four tarot cards, he finds himself staring at Death, unable to tear his eyes away, although his mind screams for him to do so. Death is a skeletal figure wearing black robes, and he watches Severus intently. With Death is a large cat, skeleton-like as well, which is in a standard hunting position.
Miss Peru glares. "Karkaroff, bite your tongue and show me the respect I deserve, or Jiro-kun will escort you out after he grinds your bones into dust." She cocks her head towards a burly Muggle man who stands in attendance behind the tan screen wall. And with Karkaroff biting his tongue and favouring his bones, Miss Peru again continues.
Gazing for a long time at the cards, drawing power and answers from them, she doesn't blink as she begins to speak in a monotone voice. "You look for directions, but people you will find. South does not wander from his tower. The power calls out to him, but he does not fly. Not anymore. East and west hide at north; one is oblivious and will not help you as things go his way. But years down the road he will falter. And you will make him yours."
"I mean no disrespect, Peru, but how does this help us?" Karkaroff growls.
Miss Peru gazes at them with her misty grey eyes, before taking a small quartz crystal from her pocket and casting it over the four tarot cards. It lands on The Fool, as though it is drawn there by some higher power. "The heir of Hufflepuff has no memory, has no future and no past. He lives now in the present, passing each day with bells on his feet."
Severus sighs, remembering back to a dreadful year. Miss Peru doesn't need to reveal a name, even if she could, the powers wouldn't let her. "Gilderoy Lockhart," Severus mumbles to Fleur and Karkaroff. "East makes perfect sense now. Bloody hell, let's hope that the other heirs aren't as incompetent as he is." He pulls his attention back to Miss Peru, hoping to hear words that correspond with the other heirs, but she shakes her head, knowing what Severus wants before he even asks.
"Unfortunately, I have told you all that I can. It is now up to you to understand." Miss Peru gathers her cards and shuffles them back into the deck, before locking them inside of the box once more. Standing, she holds the sacred vessel with both hands, and bows at the waist to her guests, bidding them farewell. But, as Fleur and Karkaroff depart, crawling backwards through the small gateway that they had entered, Severus doesn't follow. He, for one, expected more from the mystic, for reasons Karkaroff and Fleur don't know.
"Why make Hufflepuff so easy? Why not tell us clearly what it is we seek from Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw? You know!" Severus could tell that she knew more than she was willing to tell them.
Miss Peru smiles without reason, and her eyes drag over Severus with wonder. "You have read me well, young boy. But I fear I cannot tell you more, for if you know too much about your destiny, it will not fall into passing. The future you seek is bright, and within your grasp. But reach out not too far, or you will drop."
"We came here for answers, Peru-san," Severus growls.
"You came for answers indeed." Miss Peru reaches inside of a small pocket and withdraws five silken scarves. Each is neatly folded, and each is a different colour -- green, red, yellow, blue and grey. Handing them to Severus, she continues, "These will help you when the answers are near. North, south, east, west, and five-pointed star. To the north you go now. Shoo, shoo!" She waves her hand to usher him away. "Young boy, the serpent is the caller, and you are merely distantly removed." She begins to leave, walking backwards; it's custom to leave the room as you had entered it.
"Must you speak in riddles?" he calls after her, not eyeing the gift she bestowed upon him, and the hidden magicks that lie deep inside.
"The answers are before you. It is up to you to realise them, before it is too late."
* * *
The Graveyard of Forgotten Souls is the last dwelling place of many rotting corpses, and vanishing lives. Thousands and thousands of gravestones lie scattered across the dying grass, some dating back to the 1700s, while others bear the year 2000 on them. The stones are grey slabs; chipped and battered, with dying flowers at the base. Warm colours of red, orange, yellow and brown paint the trees and drift to the grounds, covering the cemetery in a quilted blanket before the first snowfall of the season. Cool air howls past a young wizard and witch, blowing a draft of crisp leaves by them and across the burial grounds.
"Have you ever made love in a graveyard? I hear it's quite the aphrodisiac."
She glares at him in disgust. "Unfortunately, I have."
Adrian remains silent, knowing that, with her tone and her words, she doesn't want to delve into the details. But, as they pass another row of headstones, the names engraved deep, Rae continues.
"I would hardly call it love making. It's never love making with Marcus. Although," she considers, "it was his idea of romance. He led me to his family mausoleum, and amidst the cobwebs, stench of stale blood and rotting bodies . . ." Rae trails off, sighing heavily with a slight headache beating at her temples.
Adrian grits his teeth, but only angry words come to mind, and he refuses to voice those. They walk in silence for several moments, until Rae stops abruptly and curses lightly. Adrian turns only to see her kneel before a grave, clearing dead leaves from the fresh soil. Taking a moonstone from one of the many pockets on her robes, she places it on top of the tombstone.
Leland Ivo Derrick
October 15, 1977 to May 13, 2000
Adrian drops to his knees next to her, running his hand down her back in a comforting way. "Rae?"
But the young woman's only response is an annoyed, "Shh!"
After what seems like an eternity of tedious silence, Rae finally stands and Adrian follows, considering that maybe he should never have asked to come with her. "Do you do this every year?" And they continue walking among the sea of graves.
"Do what?"
"Come to the cemetery in respect."
Rae nods. "Ever since I was fifteen years old."
"I've never even thought about it. I haven't even been to their graves since they were buried." It's something he now feels shame for. "Both of my parents were murdered by Death Eaters; my mum six years ago and my father before I was even born." Adrian saunters faster to catch up to Rae and takes her hand in his, but not before glancing around to ensure that they are truly alone. "I don't even know where their graves would be."
Rae glances up and smiles warmly. "Coming here for ten consecutive years does have its advantage; I know almost every gravestone's place. I'm sure I can take you to them." She consciously chooses to ignore Adrian's short drabble of his family past, for she knows too much about it already, possibly more than Adrian himself. They turn; travelling down a slight slope as the dates on the gravestones decrease.
"How did your father die?" Adrian suddenly asks. Glancing at the brunette, he quickly wishes that he could take back the words.
"That's awfully rude of you."
"I'm sorry, it's just been something I've been wondering for a while."
By the time Rae answers, they've already reached her father's last dwelling place. "An Auror got him. Exactly twenty years ago. He was one of the Death Eaters with Voldemort when Lily and James Potter were killed, and Harry slipped through the cracks. That's why I always come to the cemetery on Halloween." She kneels before her father's grave, tracing her fingers along the chipped name, as she does every year.
Jamie Sean Landon
February 16, 1954 to October 31, 1980
Rae takes a handful of dried pink rose petals from her pocket, and spreads them over the compressed soil. Bowing her head, she closes her eyes and begins a silent prayer, one that she's used for ten years now. Adrian remains silent as Rae pays her respects, but before he knows it, she's crawling back to her feet.
Smiling, she turns to face him, and asks, "What was your father's name?"
"Cayne Corbett."
Rae furrows her eyebrows; that name sounds familiar, but she can't place from where at the moment. She doesn't really want to, either. She shrugs it off and turns left to walk deeper among the graves, her black robes rustling along with the leaves. Passing the Malfoy mausoleum, a large stone structure that only the wealthiest can afford, Rae and Adrian notice that the Potter mausoleum has been dishonoured, partially torn down, and the sound of a ghostly choir wails deep inside. If it were any other family they might wander in for a closer look and a sense of exhilaration, but they're afraid of what they might find, so they keep walking.
"I remember seeing a Corbett's grave over there." Rae points in the general west direction. "That's where we should start looking. Hopefully it won't be too far." Adrian nods, takes Rae's hand with his again, and follows her down a steep slope towards another spread of graves. As they walk, Adrian stares absentmindedly at the names chiselled into the stone--William the Bloody being the one that catches his attention. He opens his mouth to ask Rae about it, but decides not to when she stops and ushers him towards a grave:
Cayne Adrian Corbett
February 28, 1954 to September 30, 1975
Adrian falls to his knees before the grave; his mother never told him that he was named from his father's middle name, or that they shared the same birthdays. But then again, his mum never talked about Cayne. Adrian assumed it was because the topic was just too painful. For the silent moments, Adrian merely stares at the grave. No words, no form of prayer, come to mind. He's never been the spiritual type; he tends to believe in what the physical eye can see. When he does respectfully bow his head, he's interrupted by another string of curses coming from Rae, and he immediately glances up, only to see Marcus Flint striding towards them, black-robed and grey-cloaked.
Adrian yelps in an unmanly way, jumping to his feet.
"I thought I told you to stay in my chambers." Marcus approaches Rae without a word of greeting. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks spitefully angry at each of them. "What sort of woman do I have if she doesn't even listen to me?" He raises an eyebrow at her, regarding her as though she is at fault. Of course, when it comes to Marcus, he is always right, even if he once believed the world to be flat.
"You have a woman with her own mind, Marcus," Rae replies matter-of-factly as she moves away from Adrian before their closeness puts any ideas into Marcus's thick skull. "A woman who won't bow down before you, and say 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir' at your every beck and call." And maybe one of these days, he will actually listen to her.
Marcus raises his lip in anger but responds with some carefully selected words. "If I wanted any cum back from you, I'd pump it out of your stomach, Rae." He takes a menacing step towards her, and she subconsciously backs down. "Why are you two prats together in a graveyard?"
"Paying our respects," Adrian replies defiantly.
Marcus snorts, as his eyes graze with the name on the tombstone. "Corbett?" He strains to recall were he has heard that name before. It lands on the tip of his tongue, and he manages to attach a killer to his best mate's father. "Isn't that the bloke your mother slaughtered, Rae?"
"Sod off, Marcus!" Rae yells, wondering how in the bloody hell Marcus knew about this family secret. It's something she thought would jeopardise her hidden relationship with Adrian, so she was prepared to take the identity of his father's murderer to her grave. Even if the emotional pain was just as great as Adrian's vendetta for revenge.
Blood drains from Adrian's face, and he stares in disbelief at the woman he loves, the woman he believed didn't shield secrets from him. "Bloody hell. You knew?" He glares at Marcus and Rae, addressing both with equal anger boiling in his blood. "You bloody knew who killed my father!" Adrian rounds on his heels, he can't stand to speak another word to either of them or be around them when something like this hung in the air. "Fuck, is the whole world conspiring against me?"
Marcus crosses his arms and smirks. "No, just your mates."
Rae gawks at Marcus, her eyes narrowing in distaste at the man who seems to be incapable of emotion. "Adrian!" She attempts to chase after the unusually hot-headed Slytherin, but a firm hand over her upper arm stops her before she can get far.
"Sit still, woman. Don't get your knickers in a twist; it'll be all that much harder to get them off later. I'll get him."
And without a chance for Rae to respond, Marcus has dashed past her with no second thought. Catching up with Adrian at the Potter mausoleum, he reaches out to grab him on the shoulder, but Adrian's eyes are quicker, and he drills Marcus on the side of his head with a balled fist in pure rage.
"Sod off, Flint. You're supposed to be me best mate! How could you have known who set the killing curse on my father and just not tell me!? Is it beyond your naïve trollish comprehension that I might have wanted to avenge his death, defend his honour? That's the only fucking reason I became a Death Eater!" Adrian shrieks, fists at his sides, ready to attack again if the opportunity arises. He stands his ground before Marcus, breathing deeply and staring him directly in the eye. An ebony fringe of hair falls before his blue eyes, and irritated, he brushes it aside.
But Marcus smugly crosses his arms, remembering why he and nearly every other Death Eater considers emotions to be a weakness. "You speak of avenging his death and defending his honour when you can't even defend your own. You want to act without forethought? Then kill Rae. It was her mother who killed your father--an eye for an eye, a life for a life. Kill the disobedient whore."
But the last thing that runs through Adrian's mind is killing Rae. She is not responsible for her mother's actions; he would never take it out on her. "That's some crazy troll logic! Just because Aileen took something from me, doesn't mean I must take something from her! Besides, if you are even capable of loving someone, you supposedly love Rae. You'd kill me if I touched her."
"And I'd enjoy doing it, too."
"Sod off, Flint. Just leave me be."
Marcus is not going to listen to his junior, even if it is Adrian. With an unruffled expression plastered across his intimidating mug, he continues to taunt Adrian with words. "Sure. Run, just like your whore of a mother. You couldn't save her. You stood still, scared, like the fucking coward you are when Lord Voldemort set the task before a Death Eater he could trust. You failed when she wouldn't join us. It's a bloody wonder why Lord Voldemort spared your life. You should have died that night."
But Adrian remembers why his life was spared, and would never tell Marcus about the circumstances. "At least I know who killed my mother. And trust me, I'll kill Weasley for it one day," Adrian promises, mentally biding his time to cast the killing curse on the redheaded snake. Those who wait will be rewarded in the end; it's something his mother taught him, and mothers always know best.
"I know who killed my Muggle-fucking mother and her two-point-five Mudblood brats. I was there when I cast the curse and impaled them upon her precious white picket fence. And I watched as Weasley killed yours with a smile in his soul, a bounce in his step, and a twinkle in his eye." Marcus takes a step back, his black combat boots crunching the leaves.
Rae watches with worried blue eyes from afar, shuddering against a chill that surfs down her spine and wades through her body.
Any reply that Adrian has is drowned out by a hoarse cry of,
"Ring around the rosies,
a pocket full of posies,
ashes! Ashes!
We all fall down!"
emanating from the depths of the Potter mausoleum. The voice is as cold and eerie as death personified, echoing shrill and high through the cemetery and to their ears.
"The power is my power, it is as energy. It hasn't decreased or increased, and you cannot make it. The one who controls it is the descendant of the heir. Excalibur's power shall be theirs to wield, and theirs alone. Four to channel, and one to receive. Versed in ancient magicks they will have to be, for Avalon will call through the wind and past the trees to the hearts of the founders' blood. If the walls are crumbled and dark tides wash in, the powers inherited will be all that stands alone. For it isn't in the houses that the power lies, but in the hearts, and the mind, and the soul. Spread on the trees and in the leaves, life is the powers that they seek. For it doesn't matter if Hogwarts falls though the years and through the tears, the heirs are always there to take the pain."
Chapter Fourteen : Riddles
"I know what it is you seek, but I know not if I can help you," Miss Peru, Japanese mystic, replies with an airy tone about her. She is an elderly woman. Wrinkles grace her olive skin, but her hair is still as black as the night and cascades to the middle of her back. She is wearing a ceremonial silk kimono, navy blue with silver nightingales flying across the fabric. It's tight-fitting as she kneels with her stomach sucked in, resting on her socked feet.
"We weren't sent with high hopes, Peru-san," Severus Snape replies, bowing his head respectfully towards his elder. He is wearing an inexpensive forest green kimono, very plain and void of any decoration. His shoulder-length hair is pulled neatly back into a ponytail, and his chilled hands are folded respectfully on his lap. It's customary to wash them, as well as the face, from a flowing fountain outside before entering the sacred chamber.
Beside him sits a very uncomfortable Igor Karkaroff, in a black kimono that itches his skin. His dark eyes dart around the room, and his white hair is in need of a slight trimming. Next to him sits the beautiful Fleur, in a silver kimono to match her beauty and hair, which hangs loosely over her shoulders. She sits awkwardly in attendance, not knowing what it is she's supposed to be doing.
Miss Peru nods her head in understanding before turning her attention towards a small wooden box sitting before her. Sliding the top open, she places it gently to the left and withdraws her set of tarot cards. She begins to shuffle them, letting her eyes wander to each of the three foreigners before dragging them around the small room. The tan walls are vacant of all ornamentation, save for the tokonoma--an alcove in the corner that houses a large bamboo scroll. Upon the scroll are cherry blossoms that bleed white blood, and black Kanji that spells out a phrase only the mystic can understand.
Miss Peru then places the cards vertically in front of her, and with her index finger of her left hand, she fans them out into a complete circle. "Please, select one card," she instructs the wizards and witch.
Slowly, Fleur leans forward to select a tarot card from the middle of the fan. She places it upside down opposite her, and stares at the two cats intertwined with each other, forming a sort of yin-yang. Secondly, Karkaroff does the same. He glances at his card before dropping it to the floor, scoffing. Severus then selects the top card from the fan, and doesn't have time to look at it before Miss Peru gathers them.
"Thank you." And she places them before her in the form of a diamond, adding a fourth card, the one she singled out, as the peak. She takes the remaining cards and sets them aside in case she must interpret one for the reading.
Turning the card placed at east over first, she reveals The Fool--a card possessing a fiery youth with a fat orange cat biting at his ankles. She gapes at it for several moments in silence, then raises her head to explain the significance to her visitors. "The Fool is a man without direction; he drifts through life undisciplined and frivolous. He resides in the east, but knows nothing about the world around him. Cares and worries that would normally beset a mature person never jade him."
Miss Peru then flips the card placed at the west, and the alliance remains silent for lack of something else to do. The tarot card revealed is The Devil--a clothed figure with two cats, one black and one orange, waiting at his heels. They hiss and scratch, and must be kept within a force field managed by The Devil. Miss Peru frowns, cautiously going about the explanation of this card. "The Devil is seductive and powerful; it is an evil that hides but always shows itself. He has no identity, but I see that your devils have fire and white hair, and one will be tested. Hope that he does not fail, for it would mean your salvation will not come to pass."
"Isn't there more you can tell us?"
"It's irrelevant, Severus," comes Karkaroff's voice. "It's obvious the devil we face is none other than Lucius Malfoy. This is pointless." He crosses his arms, not holding much respect for the good mystic. Divination is something that he has never believed in. Even now, she speaks in riddles that make no sense to him.
"Please continue, Peru-san." Severus shoots Karkaroff an icy glare.
Miss Peru sighs heavily and shakes her head; there have been people who mistrust her third eye, but they've never sat before her and asked for a reading. Nevertheless, she continues and flips the card placed north to reveal The Tower--a large structure in the shape of a cat that cracks at the neck with a bright white light. Without words, she turns the card placed south, which is Death, and places it over the northern card horizontally to form a cross. "Death becomes The Tower. But choose wisely, for this Death represents all the card is not."
Karkaroff coughs, which oddly sounds like crackpot! and shifts position on the cloth floor. Severus rolls his eyes at his companion but does not wish to start an argument, so he remains calm. Drawing his attention back towards the four tarot cards, he finds himself staring at Death, unable to tear his eyes away, although his mind screams for him to do so. Death is a skeletal figure wearing black robes, and he watches Severus intently. With Death is a large cat, skeleton-like as well, which is in a standard hunting position.
Miss Peru glares. "Karkaroff, bite your tongue and show me the respect I deserve, or Jiro-kun will escort you out after he grinds your bones into dust." She cocks her head towards a burly Muggle man who stands in attendance behind the tan screen wall. And with Karkaroff biting his tongue and favouring his bones, Miss Peru again continues.
Gazing for a long time at the cards, drawing power and answers from them, she doesn't blink as she begins to speak in a monotone voice. "You look for directions, but people you will find. South does not wander from his tower. The power calls out to him, but he does not fly. Not anymore. East and west hide at north; one is oblivious and will not help you as things go his way. But years down the road he will falter. And you will make him yours."
"I mean no disrespect, Peru, but how does this help us?" Karkaroff growls.
Miss Peru gazes at them with her misty grey eyes, before taking a small quartz crystal from her pocket and casting it over the four tarot cards. It lands on The Fool, as though it is drawn there by some higher power. "The heir of Hufflepuff has no memory, has no future and no past. He lives now in the present, passing each day with bells on his feet."
Severus sighs, remembering back to a dreadful year. Miss Peru doesn't need to reveal a name, even if she could, the powers wouldn't let her. "Gilderoy Lockhart," Severus mumbles to Fleur and Karkaroff. "East makes perfect sense now. Bloody hell, let's hope that the other heirs aren't as incompetent as he is." He pulls his attention back to Miss Peru, hoping to hear words that correspond with the other heirs, but she shakes her head, knowing what Severus wants before he even asks.
"Unfortunately, I have told you all that I can. It is now up to you to understand." Miss Peru gathers her cards and shuffles them back into the deck, before locking them inside of the box once more. Standing, she holds the sacred vessel with both hands, and bows at the waist to her guests, bidding them farewell. But, as Fleur and Karkaroff depart, crawling backwards through the small gateway that they had entered, Severus doesn't follow. He, for one, expected more from the mystic, for reasons Karkaroff and Fleur don't know.
"Why make Hufflepuff so easy? Why not tell us clearly what it is we seek from Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw? You know!" Severus could tell that she knew more than she was willing to tell them.
Miss Peru smiles without reason, and her eyes drag over Severus with wonder. "You have read me well, young boy. But I fear I cannot tell you more, for if you know too much about your destiny, it will not fall into passing. The future you seek is bright, and within your grasp. But reach out not too far, or you will drop."
"We came here for answers, Peru-san," Severus growls.
"You came for answers indeed." Miss Peru reaches inside of a small pocket and withdraws five silken scarves. Each is neatly folded, and each is a different colour -- green, red, yellow, blue and grey. Handing them to Severus, she continues, "These will help you when the answers are near. North, south, east, west, and five-pointed star. To the north you go now. Shoo, shoo!" She waves her hand to usher him away. "Young boy, the serpent is the caller, and you are merely distantly removed." She begins to leave, walking backwards; it's custom to leave the room as you had entered it.
"Must you speak in riddles?" he calls after her, not eyeing the gift she bestowed upon him, and the hidden magicks that lie deep inside.
"The answers are before you. It is up to you to realise them, before it is too late."
* * *
The Graveyard of Forgotten Souls is the last dwelling place of many rotting corpses, and vanishing lives. Thousands and thousands of gravestones lie scattered across the dying grass, some dating back to the 1700s, while others bear the year 2000 on them. The stones are grey slabs; chipped and battered, with dying flowers at the base. Warm colours of red, orange, yellow and brown paint the trees and drift to the grounds, covering the cemetery in a quilted blanket before the first snowfall of the season. Cool air howls past a young wizard and witch, blowing a draft of crisp leaves by them and across the burial grounds.
"Have you ever made love in a graveyard? I hear it's quite the aphrodisiac."
She glares at him in disgust. "Unfortunately, I have."
Adrian remains silent, knowing that, with her tone and her words, she doesn't want to delve into the details. But, as they pass another row of headstones, the names engraved deep, Rae continues.
"I would hardly call it love making. It's never love making with Marcus. Although," she considers, "it was his idea of romance. He led me to his family mausoleum, and amidst the cobwebs, stench of stale blood and rotting bodies . . ." Rae trails off, sighing heavily with a slight headache beating at her temples.
Adrian grits his teeth, but only angry words come to mind, and he refuses to voice those. They walk in silence for several moments, until Rae stops abruptly and curses lightly. Adrian turns only to see her kneel before a grave, clearing dead leaves from the fresh soil. Taking a moonstone from one of the many pockets on her robes, she places it on top of the tombstone.
Leland Ivo Derrick
October 15, 1977 to May 13, 2000
Adrian drops to his knees next to her, running his hand down her back in a comforting way. "Rae?"
But the young woman's only response is an annoyed, "Shh!"
After what seems like an eternity of tedious silence, Rae finally stands and Adrian follows, considering that maybe he should never have asked to come with her. "Do you do this every year?" And they continue walking among the sea of graves.
"Do what?"
"Come to the cemetery in respect."
Rae nods. "Ever since I was fifteen years old."
"I've never even thought about it. I haven't even been to their graves since they were buried." It's something he now feels shame for. "Both of my parents were murdered by Death Eaters; my mum six years ago and my father before I was even born." Adrian saunters faster to catch up to Rae and takes her hand in his, but not before glancing around to ensure that they are truly alone. "I don't even know where their graves would be."
Rae glances up and smiles warmly. "Coming here for ten consecutive years does have its advantage; I know almost every gravestone's place. I'm sure I can take you to them." She consciously chooses to ignore Adrian's short drabble of his family past, for she knows too much about it already, possibly more than Adrian himself. They turn; travelling down a slight slope as the dates on the gravestones decrease.
"How did your father die?" Adrian suddenly asks. Glancing at the brunette, he quickly wishes that he could take back the words.
"That's awfully rude of you."
"I'm sorry, it's just been something I've been wondering for a while."
By the time Rae answers, they've already reached her father's last dwelling place. "An Auror got him. Exactly twenty years ago. He was one of the Death Eaters with Voldemort when Lily and James Potter were killed, and Harry slipped through the cracks. That's why I always come to the cemetery on Halloween." She kneels before her father's grave, tracing her fingers along the chipped name, as she does every year.
Jamie Sean Landon
February 16, 1954 to October 31, 1980
Rae takes a handful of dried pink rose petals from her pocket, and spreads them over the compressed soil. Bowing her head, she closes her eyes and begins a silent prayer, one that she's used for ten years now. Adrian remains silent as Rae pays her respects, but before he knows it, she's crawling back to her feet.
Smiling, she turns to face him, and asks, "What was your father's name?"
"Cayne Corbett."
Rae furrows her eyebrows; that name sounds familiar, but she can't place from where at the moment. She doesn't really want to, either. She shrugs it off and turns left to walk deeper among the graves, her black robes rustling along with the leaves. Passing the Malfoy mausoleum, a large stone structure that only the wealthiest can afford, Rae and Adrian notice that the Potter mausoleum has been dishonoured, partially torn down, and the sound of a ghostly choir wails deep inside. If it were any other family they might wander in for a closer look and a sense of exhilaration, but they're afraid of what they might find, so they keep walking.
"I remember seeing a Corbett's grave over there." Rae points in the general west direction. "That's where we should start looking. Hopefully it won't be too far." Adrian nods, takes Rae's hand with his again, and follows her down a steep slope towards another spread of graves. As they walk, Adrian stares absentmindedly at the names chiselled into the stone--William the Bloody being the one that catches his attention. He opens his mouth to ask Rae about it, but decides not to when she stops and ushers him towards a grave:
Cayne Adrian Corbett
February 28, 1954 to September 30, 1975
Adrian falls to his knees before the grave; his mother never told him that he was named from his father's middle name, or that they shared the same birthdays. But then again, his mum never talked about Cayne. Adrian assumed it was because the topic was just too painful. For the silent moments, Adrian merely stares at the grave. No words, no form of prayer, come to mind. He's never been the spiritual type; he tends to believe in what the physical eye can see. When he does respectfully bow his head, he's interrupted by another string of curses coming from Rae, and he immediately glances up, only to see Marcus Flint striding towards them, black-robed and grey-cloaked.
Adrian yelps in an unmanly way, jumping to his feet.
"I thought I told you to stay in my chambers." Marcus approaches Rae without a word of greeting. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks spitefully angry at each of them. "What sort of woman do I have if she doesn't even listen to me?" He raises an eyebrow at her, regarding her as though she is at fault. Of course, when it comes to Marcus, he is always right, even if he once believed the world to be flat.
"You have a woman with her own mind, Marcus," Rae replies matter-of-factly as she moves away from Adrian before their closeness puts any ideas into Marcus's thick skull. "A woman who won't bow down before you, and say 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir' at your every beck and call." And maybe one of these days, he will actually listen to her.
Marcus raises his lip in anger but responds with some carefully selected words. "If I wanted any cum back from you, I'd pump it out of your stomach, Rae." He takes a menacing step towards her, and she subconsciously backs down. "Why are you two prats together in a graveyard?"
"Paying our respects," Adrian replies defiantly.
Marcus snorts, as his eyes graze with the name on the tombstone. "Corbett?" He strains to recall were he has heard that name before. It lands on the tip of his tongue, and he manages to attach a killer to his best mate's father. "Isn't that the bloke your mother slaughtered, Rae?"
"Sod off, Marcus!" Rae yells, wondering how in the bloody hell Marcus knew about this family secret. It's something she thought would jeopardise her hidden relationship with Adrian, so she was prepared to take the identity of his father's murderer to her grave. Even if the emotional pain was just as great as Adrian's vendetta for revenge.
Blood drains from Adrian's face, and he stares in disbelief at the woman he loves, the woman he believed didn't shield secrets from him. "Bloody hell. You knew?" He glares at Marcus and Rae, addressing both with equal anger boiling in his blood. "You bloody knew who killed my father!" Adrian rounds on his heels, he can't stand to speak another word to either of them or be around them when something like this hung in the air. "Fuck, is the whole world conspiring against me?"
Marcus crosses his arms and smirks. "No, just your mates."
Rae gawks at Marcus, her eyes narrowing in distaste at the man who seems to be incapable of emotion. "Adrian!" She attempts to chase after the unusually hot-headed Slytherin, but a firm hand over her upper arm stops her before she can get far.
"Sit still, woman. Don't get your knickers in a twist; it'll be all that much harder to get them off later. I'll get him."
And without a chance for Rae to respond, Marcus has dashed past her with no second thought. Catching up with Adrian at the Potter mausoleum, he reaches out to grab him on the shoulder, but Adrian's eyes are quicker, and he drills Marcus on the side of his head with a balled fist in pure rage.
"Sod off, Flint. You're supposed to be me best mate! How could you have known who set the killing curse on my father and just not tell me!? Is it beyond your naïve trollish comprehension that I might have wanted to avenge his death, defend his honour? That's the only fucking reason I became a Death Eater!" Adrian shrieks, fists at his sides, ready to attack again if the opportunity arises. He stands his ground before Marcus, breathing deeply and staring him directly in the eye. An ebony fringe of hair falls before his blue eyes, and irritated, he brushes it aside.
But Marcus smugly crosses his arms, remembering why he and nearly every other Death Eater considers emotions to be a weakness. "You speak of avenging his death and defending his honour when you can't even defend your own. You want to act without forethought? Then kill Rae. It was her mother who killed your father--an eye for an eye, a life for a life. Kill the disobedient whore."
But the last thing that runs through Adrian's mind is killing Rae. She is not responsible for her mother's actions; he would never take it out on her. "That's some crazy troll logic! Just because Aileen took something from me, doesn't mean I must take something from her! Besides, if you are even capable of loving someone, you supposedly love Rae. You'd kill me if I touched her."
"And I'd enjoy doing it, too."
"Sod off, Flint. Just leave me be."
Marcus is not going to listen to his junior, even if it is Adrian. With an unruffled expression plastered across his intimidating mug, he continues to taunt Adrian with words. "Sure. Run, just like your whore of a mother. You couldn't save her. You stood still, scared, like the fucking coward you are when Lord Voldemort set the task before a Death Eater he could trust. You failed when she wouldn't join us. It's a bloody wonder why Lord Voldemort spared your life. You should have died that night."
But Adrian remembers why his life was spared, and would never tell Marcus about the circumstances. "At least I know who killed my mother. And trust me, I'll kill Weasley for it one day," Adrian promises, mentally biding his time to cast the killing curse on the redheaded snake. Those who wait will be rewarded in the end; it's something his mother taught him, and mothers always know best.
"I know who killed my Muggle-fucking mother and her two-point-five Mudblood brats. I was there when I cast the curse and impaled them upon her precious white picket fence. And I watched as Weasley killed yours with a smile in his soul, a bounce in his step, and a twinkle in his eye." Marcus takes a step back, his black combat boots crunching the leaves.
Rae watches with worried blue eyes from afar, shuddering against a chill that surfs down her spine and wades through her body.
Any reply that Adrian has is drowned out by a hoarse cry of,
"Ring around the rosies,
a pocket full of posies,
ashes! Ashes!
We all fall down!"
emanating from the depths of the Potter mausoleum. The voice is as cold and eerie as death personified, echoing shrill and high through the cemetery and to their ears.
"The power is my power, it is as energy. It hasn't decreased or increased, and you cannot make it. The one who controls it is the descendant of the heir. Excalibur's power shall be theirs to wield, and theirs alone. Four to channel, and one to receive. Versed in ancient magicks they will have to be, for Avalon will call through the wind and past the trees to the hearts of the founders' blood. If the walls are crumbled and dark tides wash in, the powers inherited will be all that stands alone. For it isn't in the houses that the power lies, but in the hearts, and the mind, and the soul. Spread on the trees and in the leaves, life is the powers that they seek. For it doesn't matter if Hogwarts falls though the years and through the tears, the heirs are always there to take the pain."
