Author's Note: Here's Chapter Three of my Harry Potter & Wheel of Time crossover. I'm blatantly aware that the Hogwart-ies haven't learned some of the spells I use. I've sped up their education a bit to suit the purpose of the story. If any other facts are thrown off, then I apologize. XD
CHAPTER THREE
THE CORRUPTION OF ARIDHOL
The Caemlyn Road
Ron stuck his wand back inside his robes, stepping gingerly over the charred and smoking body of the Trolloc he had just felled. Hermione was clutching onto him with both hands, her face deathly pale and both eyes wide. Scattered stands of evergreens littered the narrow gap between hills, and the bodies of Trollocs were interspersed between the trees. The horses reared and whinnied as the Aes Sedai called down ball lightning out of the sky. Flames erupted from both ends of her staff as she twirled it about her head, and partially human muzzled forms screamed.
Perrin sat astride his horse, attempting to wrestle his axe from the grip of three Trollocs that threatened to unseat him. Rand was hacking and slashing awkwardly with his sword, not really keeping in mind the forms Lan had taught him. Mat had been thrown from his horse and stood his ground, nocking arrows and letting fly in a seamless motion. The gleeman galloped amidst the chaos, hurling daggers from under his cloak. Both Nynaeve and Egwene kept within close proximity to Thom, striking at exposed throats with their belt knives.
In the center of it all danced the Warder and the Myrddraal. Black blade wrought from the forges of Thakan'dar clashed with hard steel in a tumultuous thunderclap. They met each other stroke for stroke. Not a fold of the Halfman's black cloak shifted as he fought with the Warder. The Fade's hood had been lowered, and for half a second it turned its pasty white skull and seemed to pore right through Ron with hollow sockets before redirecting its attention to the Borderman. Ron felt his body go cold with that look, and Hermione gripped him tighter.
Lan struck while the Fade had been distracted. His sword cut cleanly through the creature's neck, severing its head. The headless body thrashed madly, sword flailing in all directions. A sickening feeling entered Ron's gut as he looked at the dying Myrddraal.
The remaining Trollocs saw that their master had been killed and ran back towards the sound of keening horns. More Trollocs would be upon them within the hour, if they stayed there. They had to move.
The Two Rivers folk gathered around Moiraine and the Warder. Ron mounted his horse, pulled Hermione up behind him, and trotted the bay over to join them. The Myrddraal still writhed atop his steed. Thom Merrilin drew up rein next to the rest of them. "It won't die until nightfall," he said. "Not completely. That is what I've heard, anyway."
Ron guessed that he was speaking to the country folk, because both Moiraine and Lan ignored him. The Aes Sedai looked spent; she swayed absently in her saddle. Nynaeve whispered something in her ear before placing a small pouch in her hand. Moiraine downed the contents in one swallow as the Wisdom smiled satisfactorily.
Lan leaned close to the Aes Sedai. "If we hurry, we can be there within the hour," he breathed. "You need to rest. The Trollocs will not enter that place."
"So be it," Moiraine replied. Rand and the others gave her a quizzical look but nobody voiced any objections. Thom wore a frown beneath his moustaches.
"Ride!" the Warder called out suddenly. Ron practically threw his horse against the next hill as they rushed forward.
Ron wondered at it all. The Wisdom had arrived in Baerlon shortly after they had, trying to coax the Emond's Field folk into returning with her. The Whitecloaks had attempted to prevent them from leaving the town, with no success, and now this. He just wanted to go home. He wanted to get Hermione someplace safe.
The leisurely pace they had been enjoying for the past week was gone. The Warder pushed them harder than ever as the sounds of pursuit drew ever closer. The horses bayed and rolled their eyes maniacally every time a horn sounded from behind. Still they rushed on.
They topped a high rise suddenly and a cliff rose before them. A great irregular mass that stretched off to either side and wound out of sight, with tall spires here and there between the trees. It was strangely decayed, with leafless vines and creepers that covered the length of it in thick layers.
Hermione gasped over his shoulder as they rode closer. He turned his head in acknowledgement, but she only pointed. He swivelled his eyes until he saw the tower that stood along the cliff. It wasn't a cliff at all.
"A city!" Mat shouted just as Perrin said, "Where are all the people?"
"What is this place?" Ron asked the Aes Sedai.
"It was called Aridhol," she replied. "In the days of the Trolloc wars, it was an ally of Manetheren. Later Aridhol died, and this place was called by another name."
"What name?" Mat asked.
The Warder interrupted, stopping his stallion in front of what had once been a gate. Only the broken, vine-encrusted watchtowers remained. "We enter here," Lan said.
"What name?" Egwene echoed him.
Moiraine answered as they passed through into the city. "Shadar Logoth," she said. "It is called Shadar Logoth."
The entire city was desolate. Broken paving stones crunched underfoot as the Warder led them down a street. More buildings had roofs fallen in than had them whole. Uneven rubble hills with a few stunted trees growing on their slopes could have been the remains of palaces or of entire blocks of the city.
Ron looked open-mouthed at everything. What was left standing was enough to rival anything in Hogwarts. Pale marble palaces topped with huge domes confronted him wherever he looked. Some buildings were probably big enough to accommodate the entire Great Hall, he assumed.
They stopped next to what had once been an inn that was twice as large as the Stag and Lion in Baerlon. Only a hollow shell remained of the upper floors, but the ground floor was still mostly intact. Lan dismounted and lifted the Aes Sedai from her saddle, carrying her inside as he spoke over his shoulder. "Bring the horses inside," he said.
Ron swung down from his saddle and helped Hermione to the ground behind him. Nynaeve was staring after the Warder with a dark look on her face. "Wool-headed lummox," she said before guiding her horse inside.
The doorway was big enough for the rest of them to pass their horses through two abreast. Inside was a huge room with a dirty tile floor and a few ragged wall hangings. Rand approached him as he entered. "Mat's found another room back there that should be suitable. I'll take your horse if you like."
Ron muttered his thanks as the three Two Rivers boys and the gleeman disappeared further inside with the horses. Moiraine was resting on the floor, Nynaeve kneeling beside her. Egwene sat nearby, uncertain what to do. Lan seemed to be leaning casually with his back against the wall, but he watched the Wisdom intently out of the corner of his eye.
"Have a care, Wisdom," he said.
"I may not like her, it is true," Nynaeve replied as she busied herself in her herb pouch. "But I help anyone who needs my help, whether I like them or not."
"I made no accusation," the Warder said. "I only said, have a care with your herbs."
Moiraine spoke softly. "Be at ease, Lan. She simply does not know."
Nynaeve looked as if she wanted to say more, but simply pushed the Aes Sedai back and poured the contents of a small vial down her throat. Moiraine swallowed with a grimace. "What was that?"
"A weak tea of foxtail, marisin, and hitrine root." The Wisdom said. "It will help you sleep."
Ron turned to Hermione. She was still very pale, and tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him. "Oh, Ron, I'm so scared," she whispered.
"I know," he said. "Blimey, I know. Those…things, today. I want to know where the others are. I want to know where we are."
She embraced him then, crying softly into his shoulder. He patted her head awkwardly. He looked to the Wisdom. "Do you have anything for her?" he asked. "She needs to rest as well."
"Bring her over here," Nynaeve said absently.
He took Hermione by the hand and guided her over to where Egwene sat on the ground. "Keep her company," he whispered to the other girl. Hermione started to protest as he rose. "I'll be back soon," he said.
Ron went to the back room where the others and the horses were. It was even bigger than the entrance room, with nothing to disturb the dust on the floor.
The gleeman brushed past him into the first room as he entered, pipe in hand. Rand and the two others were gathered around their horses. Rand was just finishing grooming his horse when he spotted Ron.
"Hello," he said. "Perrin, Mat and I were just thinking about seeing some of this city. Would you care to join us?"
Ron was hesitant. "Is it safe out there?" he asked.
Mat guffawed. "There isn't anyone out there. The Trollocs won't even come near the place, or so Moiraine says. Moiraine Sedai, I mean."
"Aridhol must have been the greatest city in the Trolloc Wars for them to still be afraid of it," Rand finished for him.
"And no Whitecloaks to stare at us," Perrin added.
"Alright then," Ron said. "But not too long. I don't want to leave Hermione alone more than I have to."
They stepped softly so as not to be heard from the front room, leaving by an alleyway offset from the inn. They walked quickly, and when they were a block away from the white stone building, Mat broke into a capering dance.
"Free!" he shouted gleefully. "Free at last!"
Ron shushed him angrily. "D'you want to get us found out? There isn't much daylight left. Come on, if we're to find anything interesting."
They wandered around for some time before they became bored with the ruins and nothing to look at but piles of dust. Mat stopped in the middle of a street. "I want to climb one of the towers," he said. "Look at that one over there. It's whole. I'll bet you could see for miles from up there. What do you say?"
A voice spoke, chillingly close. "The towers are not safe."
Ron turned. A man stood alone in the street, not twenty paces from them. He was shorter than all of them and completely bald. He wore tight black breeches and soft red boots with the tops turned down at his ankles. A long, red vest embroidered in gold covered a snowy white shirt with wide sleeves. The man's eyes were narrow and dark.
"Who are you?" Ron asked.
"I am Mordeth. I'm a treasure hunter," he said simply.
"Have you found any?" Mat asked excitedly. He clearly wasn't paying attention.
"More than I expected," the man replied. "Much more. More than I can carry away. I never expected to find four strong, healthy young men. If you will help me move what I can take to where my horses are, you may each have a share of the rest."
Ron drew his wand. "Levicorpus!" he shouted before any of them could say a word of protest. Mordeth was caught by an unseen force, dangling upside down in midair.
"What do you know about this place?" Ron asked with an air of determination.
"Put him down," Rand said. Ron ignored him.
Mordeth's upside-down face broke into a snarl. He spoke dismissively. "I know many things. I was here when Balwen Ironhand ordered the deaths of his son and all those who were loyal to Aridhol. I watched, and I whispered. I seeded the foundation of malcontent in this place."
"That was during the time of the Ten Nations," Perrin said. Rand wondered how he knew that.
"Yes," Mordeth said. "A long time to wait. But no matter. I got what I wanted."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked.
Mordeth would say no more. He simply stared out at the four of them with his arms folded across his chest, completely unconcerned that he was hanging upside-down, unsupported by any visible force.
"Have it your way, then," Ron said grimly. "Stupefy!" A flash of red light bolted from the tip of Ron's wand and struck Mordeth squarely in the chest. He crumpled to the ground and did not stir.
"What did you do to him?" Mat asked.
"Stunning spell," Ron explained as he returned the wand to his robes. "Normally I wouldn't, but I'm getting tired of this 'adventure' and I want to know where the bloody hell we are."
"I don't like this place," Rand said. "Let's go."
Ron began to feel something watching him from the shadows as they continued on down the street. He was dimly aware of gripping his wand inside his pocket with a sweaty hand as they began to walk faster. He spun his head around, looking towards the buildings on either side. He could feel eyes coming from there too.
A horn shrieked from somewhere in the wilderness. They broke into a run. Ron barrelled into someone as they careened around the next corner. Both of them were knocked sprawling. They wrestled for a moment before Ron managed to sit up, breathing heavily.
The other figure pushed his glasses up his face as he looked up at Ron. Midnight black hair stuck out at odd angles above a lightning bolt shaped scar on his brow. "Harry," Ron breathed. "Where've you been?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Harry retorted, sitting up. Ron helped him to his feet, dusting off his robes. "Sirius and I woke up lying in a farm pasture. The rest of you were nowhere in sight."
Rand had half drawn his sword at the commotion. Ron attempted to tell him that everything was alright whilst beaming at Harry. "Sirius is with you? Where is he?"
"He was," Harry replied. "I woke up in the middle of the night and he was gone." Something in Harry's eyes pulled at Ron.
"What is it, Harry?"
"There's something else. I think Sirius is somehow trapped in the form of a dog. I can't see what other reason he would have for not changing back."
"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed. "This just keeps getting worse. So you haven't seen Dad or the others?"
"No," Harry said. "I thought they were with you. Hermione?"
"She's here," Ron said. "I left her with some of these people at an inn not far from here."
Harry seemed to finally notice the Two Rivers folk then. He looked a bit edgy, and his hand was inside his pocket. Ron guessed that his fingers were wrapped around his wand.
"Who are they?" Harry whispered.
Ron shrugged. "No idea, but they seem to be decent enough. They're on some sort of mission or something."
"Mission?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Come on," Ron said, grabbing him by the arm. "It's almost dark, and we don't want to be caught outside for that. We'll explain everything—well, what we know—back at the inn."
The last trickling rays of sunlight glinted off the ruby studded dagger that was tucked protectively in Harry's belt.
The Riddle House
The Riddle House overlooked the small village of Little Hangleton on a once pristine hilltop. The manor had been the most respectable looking estate in the village, but now it radiated misuse. Some of the windows were boarded up and shingles were missing from the roof. Vines crawled unchecked over the exterior.
Snape drew his wand at the set of brass bound doors and directed it at the deadbolt. "Alohomora," he muttered. The lock clicked and he pushed his way inside.
Inside, the kitchen was a state of disrepair. Pots and pans sat untended in the sink. Spiderwebs crisscrossed over the thatched window. A steady plonk dripped from the sink. That was the only sound from the house.
He moved toward the staircase that ran up one wall. The stairs were dusty and groaned from neglect. Part of the baluster was chipped away and one section had even collapsed completely.
He started down the narrow hallway that was lined with portraits of previous owners of the manor. A light shone from under a door at the end of the hall. Snape gripped his left forearm as he drew closer and shoved his way inside.
The drawing room was dusty and dilapidated like the rest of the house. A table had been erected seemingly from nowhere in the center of the room. Ornately backed chairs were gathered around it, eleven in all. Both table and chairs were polished and looked as if they didn't belong. A fire crackled on the hearth.
Only five of the chairs were presently occupied. Voldemort sat at the head of the table. A rat-faced, balding man sat at his right side. Peter Pettigrew, Snape noted dimly. He was supposed to be dead. The other three were gathered in chairs at the opposite end of the table, allowing as much space as possible between they and the Dark Lord. Barty Crouch's son was supposed to be locked up in Azkaban, the last Snape had heard of him. Narcissa Malfoy snivelled in her chair under constant glares from Voldemort.
Snape looked at the third man. He almost blinked. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, rocked on his heels, never taking his eyes from the Dark Lord. Beads of sweat dribbled down his face and he clutched his green bowler to his chest with white fingers.
Voldemort looked to Snape as he entered. He was the only one to turn his head. Red eyes stared out at him with black slits for pupils. He was completely bald, with very pale skin that was a stark contrast to his eyes. He had two narrow slits for nostrils, and lips the colour of death.
"Welcome, Severus," the Dark Lord said. "Few have come, but I had high hopes that you would grace us with your presence. Sit."
Snape seated himself in a chair directly across from Voldemort. He felt something brush his legs, but didn't have to look to know that Voldemort's pet snake, Nagini, was there.
"I don't expect anyone else to come," Voldemort began. He drew his wand and waved it over the table. Three shabby objects appeared there. A crushed soda can, a torn newspaper, and a moth eaten hat.
"I have just recently confiscated these Portkeys from the Ministry's Department of Magical Transportation. Two people died that night, as I'm certain you are all aware." Voldemort looked around the table. Fudge's hands trembled violently.
"I have studied the properties of Portkeys for some time," Voldemort continued. "I believe it is possible to temporarily increase the range of teleportation with the proper incantation. This house, for instance."
Fudge did speak up then, albeit hesitantly. "Mass transport?" He said. "To what end?"
"I would think, Minister, that you would want to discover what happened to the hundreds of witches and wizards that disappeared the day of the World Cup. I would think you would want to rescue them, if at all possible."
"Of course!" Fudge burst out. Both Crouch and Narcissa turned to stare at him. He thought better of himself and went on more calmly. "If we can save them, we should. But I don't see how we would be able to bring them back."
"Well, Cornelius, we can base everything we do on a 'what-if' factor, or we can act. But I am going to use one of these Portkeys, with our without you."
Fudge seemed torn between doing his duty and working with the Dark Lord, however reluctantly. Finally, he sighed. "Oh, alright. What do we have to do?"
Voldemort waved his wand over the Portkeys once more, muttering under his breath. "In exactly two hours, the spell on these Portkeys will cause their magical properties to expand, making them capable of transporting entire structures. Minister, I want you to take one to the Ministry. Alert everyone there of the circumstances."
Voldemort turned to Snape then. "Severus, you are to take the second one back with you to Hogwarts. Tell Dumbledore of my intent."
"What of the last Portkey?" Fudge asked.
"I'll be taking it with me," Voldemort replied. "To Azkaban."
Fudge nearly dropped his bowler.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading. As always, please be sure to leave me any feedback you may have. I do appreciate it. o3o
