EPISODE 4:

ESCALATION

You'd delay an execution to pull the wings off a fly.

-The Doctor on the Master, from Doctor Who: The Deadly Assassin, by Robert Holmes

CHAPTER 16:

THE MARK OF JENOVA

Soon, the day of the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was upon them. Harry was understandably nervous. Oh, he had been in more dangerous situations, true, but it was his chance to show what he was made of.

As he struggled to eat his breakfast that morning, he got a bizarre encouragement of sorts from Professor Snape, who walked up behind him, and said, "Good luck today, Gainsborough." A faint sardonic sneer twisted his features, before he said, "Then again, now that you've beaten a troll, I'm sure a little game of Quidditch shouldn't be any problem. Even if it is against Slytherin, and Malfoy.(1)"

"Thank you sir," Harry said, as politely as he could manage. He was getting used to Snape by now, and the man was paying him a rather back-handed compliment. He then added, "I hope Malfoy will do his best at Quidditch. Because I want a good challenge."

Snape smirked. "Be careful what you wish for, Gainsborough. You may receive exactly that." And with that, he swept off, his robes billowing behind him. The guy was a prick, Harry thought to himself, but he had style.

"Slimy git," Ron muttered to himself.

"Ron, language!" Hermione hissed. "And he is a teacher!"

"It's okay," Harry said quietly. Snape's attitude was still snide and acidic. It got worse when Harry made mistakes in class (though not as often as poor Neville, whose apparent ineptitude in magic got worse in Potions). But Harry accepted it and moved on. He knew of Snape's promise, and the man at least took points off Harry when he made mistakes he could have spotted. It still stung, though. The man still showed blatant favouritism to Slytherin, and particularly Malfoy.

Harry did have some interest sparked by Snape, though. He asked Professor Sprout about the language of flowers, remembering Snape's message to him in the first Potions class. He was told there were a few books on the subject in the library. He had fun making little coded messages based on what he had read. He might even suggest having AVALANCHE and the Turks read up on any floriography texts that existed back home.

And Potions, for all the fact that Snape's teaching methods left a lot to be desired, were fascinating. Snape's words from the first lesson came to mind. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death…

In terms of the actual subject matter, Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts were his favourite subjects. Unfortunately, Snape taught the former, and Quirrell taught the latter. Thankfully, Jenova helped do what Quirrell seemed unable (or unwilling? Harry remembered the outburst where Quirrell didn't stutter) to do, and Snape was tolerable. In terms of the teachers involved, though, Transfiguration and Charms won out. In fact, Harry loved Charms most of all, as Flitwick was perhaps the most entertaining of the professors, and did so without compromising his curriculum. McGonagall was a good teacher, but she was also no-nonsense, strict (understandably, given the Transfiguration horror stories he heard whispers of), and stern.

History was tiresome. Astronomy was tiring, despite Professor Sinistra's teaching methods (Harry was interested to learn that she was in Slytherin, as she was probably the nicest Slytherin he had encountered thus far). Herbology was interesting, but Harry had gone off plants and gardens, thanks to the Dursleys, though Neville's discussion of magical plants was interesting.

Even now, he was already considering his future efforts in Hogwarts. Come the third year, he would be choosing electives. And as much as he was tempted by easy options, he wasn't sure that some would take his fancy. Muggle Studies, for example. Having grown up in the Muggle world (or the mundane world, as he preferred), he probably knew more than many pureblooded wizards. In fact, Ron's father worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, and even he made more than a few blatant mistakes. He'd spent time questioning Aerith and Jenova on the purpose of a rubber duck. Aerith had told Harry that, if Arthur Weasley ever got the time to go to the Planet, she would make sure to send Arthur Cid's way. Assuming the foul-mouthed pilot didn't lose his temper, he'd probably teach the wizard a lot. In fact, given that Arthur liked to tinker with machinery, they'd probably get along well enough.

Divination was also out, albeit for different reasons. Harry had made discreet enquiries with McGonagall, and was told that while it was considered a soft option, people with the actual gift were rare. Of course, even if you didn't have the gift, you could look for various signs that did foretell the future, but actual seers were rare.

Harry wasn't sure whether Arithmancy was his thing. Learning how to create spells through mathematics sounded great, but Harry's abilities at maths, while certainly far better than his grades at primary school suggested (thanks to the Dursleys), wasn't that great. That being said, Ancient Runes was another matter. You could do a lot of things with Runes. Maybe he could discuss it with Sirius and Remus, find out from their own personal experiences.

Hermione was also thinking ahead, though Ron wasn't. Harry liked Ron, but he was somewhat lazy. Harry also pointed out that he wasn't committing to the courses he wanted to learn. He was just speculating.

"You nervous?" Ron asked, although it was obvious.

"Such remarkable powers of observation, Mr Weasley," Harry said, in an imitation of Snape's nasal sardonic drawl. Ron chuckled, and Hermione, despite herself, smiled. Thankfully, Snape had, by that time, made it to the High Table, and hadn't been within earshot. "But yeah," he said quietly. "Wouldn't you be?"

"I'd love to play a Quidditch game. Besides, Snape's right, as much as I hate to say it. After beating a troll, not to mention Sephiroth, this ought to be a cinch."

Harry shook his head. "Yeah, but I'm the Seeker. I'm the one who's supposed to end the game by catching the Snitch. I mean, it's like looking for a Soft in a Chocobo's nest."

"…You mean a needle in a haystack, don't you?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. Same thing, really. A Soft is like an enchanted gold needle they use to cure petrification back home," Harry explained.

"And a Chocobo?" Hermione asked.

"Think a big, flightless bird you can ride like a horse," Harry said, laughing as her eyes went as wide as saucers. "Didn't you read about them in Loveless?"

"I didn't know what they were!" Hermione protested, huffing as Harry laughed. As he continued with his breakfast, he began humming the Chocobo March from Loveless(2).

If Snape had been a betting man, he would have won money on his prediction that Voldemort would try something during the Quidditch match. And the plan was so simple, so ingenious, Voldemort could scream for joy. If he was into such things. But the Dark Lord had more dignity than that, or so he deluded himself. After all, considering he was currently piggybacking on the back of the head of that imbecile Quirrell as a parasitic possession, well, there was precious little dignity in that.

Of course, had Potter a school broom and not that brand new Nimbus Two Thousand, it'd be easier to explain away. After all, old brooms could sometimes go so tragically wrong. Then again, so could new brooms. If Voldemort had been familiar with Muggle computers (or at least more than knowing the basics before dismissing them with a contemptuous sneer: he may sneer at the Muggle world, but he was far from ignorant, unlike many of his followers), he would have used the analogy of working out the bugs.

New, untested brooms did have problems occasionally. It was a fact of wizarding life that wasn't acknowledged, but still known. And accidents did happen. Oh, no doubt Snape and Dumbledore would suspect him. And perhaps the boy's odious associates, the mysterious Professor Calamitas and Miss Gainsborough, would as well.

Voldemort had wondered about those two. Aerith Gainsborough reminded him a little of Lily Potter, all sweetness and light, but with an inner fire that was admirable, though annoying in a do-gooder. Jen Calamitas was another matter. She was like his trusted lieutenant and occasional lover(3), Bellatrix Lestrange, albeit less deranged. You could smell the danger and power from her a mile off. Plus, she was flamboyant. But Voldemort also knew that Calamitas was firmly on Potter's side.

There was another thing Voldemort was wondering about. For the past little while, he had felt…different. Less attached to the world. It was worrisome, and he suspected he knew why: his horcruxes were in danger. He didn't know how many had been found or destroyed. All that he knew that someone, probably that accursed old bastard Dumbledore, had begun to track them down and destroy them. Voldemort had confirmed that the Diadem was no longer a horcrux: he had gone to the Room of Requirement, only to find that it was no longer there.

Unfortunately, he couldn't risk leaving Hogwarts to check on the rest: Quirrell's absence would be noted. However, Voldemort could take some comfort in that he knew that some of his horcruxes still existed. He'd know it if the horcruxes had all ceased to be. And once he had the Philosopher's Stone, the horcruxes would be a moot point. They'd be a handy safety measure, but his immortality was assured once he had the Stone, and with it, the Elixir of Life.

Voldemort, through Quirrell's eyes, watched as the match began. He had to admit, Harry Potter was an excellent flier, like his father. He didn't look that much like his father, though: no glasses. Voldemort speculated that either the boy didn't inherit the bad eyesight of his sire, or else wore contact lenses. It was only a minor speculation, however. The boy would die today, or else be injured and humiliated in front of the school.

He would wait until the match reached the right point before he started to interfere. Even as he did so, he had to confess to actually enjoying the game. Slytherin used fouls to its advantage, and the coward Malfoy's son was a decent Seeker, though Potter was better. Then again, the Seeker's position had a lot of luck involved: the Snitch flitted about the pitch randomly. If only that annoying Gryffindor commentator would shut the hell up!

Voldemort saw his chance after Potter had suffered a collision with the Slytherin team's captain, Flynt. Quietly, he had Quirrell murmur a special curse. Potter's broom bucked and thrashed like an ornery horse. But it wasn't doing what it should have. Someone was using an improvised counter-curse! And Quirrell couldn't see who it was, as he had to maintain eye contact.

It was a moot point, though. The broom's movements were enough to potentially shake Potter off. And Hogwarts would witness, at the very least, the injury and humiliation of Harry Potter.

Hermione scanned the crowd when Hagrid mentioned that only Dark Magic could affect Harry's broom like that. And with the binoculars she was given by the gigantic man, she soon found the culprit. "Snape!" she hissed.

"No," Aerith said, having a pair of binoculars of her own. She had been sitting with Gryffindor (though she hadn't actually been Sorted) to support Harry. And she was frightened for Harry, and realising with a sick chill of horror that Snape's prediction proved to be correct. "A little to the left, Hermione."

Hermione frowned when she saw that Quirrell, of all people, was matching Snape, muttering under his breath. "Are you sure he isn't using the counter-curse?"

"Hermione, Snape may not like Harry, but he is sworn to protect Harry's life. It's a long story."

"Well, I'm going to stop it, regardless!" And with that, Hermione scurried off, despite Aerith's protests.

Jenova was ahead of Hermione in that regard. She was in the teachers' stand, and it didn't take her long to figure out who was causing it. She took a moment to decide what to do about it, before deciding to take on the role of concerned and panicking pseudo-maternal figure. She had her wand out, running her hands through her hair. She only needed to overplay her concern, anyway. For all her haughty attitude and disdain towards many people, Jenova had come to have a soft spot for Harry.

She got to her feet, her wand in hand, and began scurrying back and forth along the teacher's stands, muttering to herself that she had to get a Levitation Charm on him if he fell. She began to dither in front of Quirrell, knowing that she was interrupting his line of sight. Then, suddenly, she was falling. Quirrell must've stuck out his foot! Dammit, how humiliating! Jenova, Calamity from the Skies, tripped up by the lackey of a would-be Dark Lord!

A cry went up when Harry, who had been hanging onto the broom by just one hand, began to lose his grip. And then, Malfoy, who was trying to outrun a Bludger, saw Harry, and got a cunning grin on his face. He sped for Harry, and expertly weaved around him. The Bludger smacked into Harry, and with a pained cry, he began falling.

Harry thought, in that moment, he was either going to die, or else hit the ground hard enough to break a lot of bones. He had been asked to leave his Materia in safe-keeping with Aerith, as players weren't allowed to use wands, and the Materia counted as a kind of magical focus. Cold comfort, considering that he now needed Phoenix, if he did have a fatal injury.

No, he thought. I WON'T die! I DON'T WANT TO DIE! HELP!

And suddenly, he got it. He felt something sprout from his back. His vision became sharper, and strangely coloured, like he could see magic.

Instinctively, he landed slowly, even gracefully, on his own two feet. He heard, distantly, Oliver Wood calling for a time out. And he saw the astonishment on people's faces, even from a distance.

Harry…came the voice of Jenova, you do know that you've made something of a spectacle of yourself.

What do you mean? he asked over their mental link.

See for yourself, she said, before he could see through her eyes. And he stared at the image of himself. Silver hair. Green, slit-pupilled eyes. And a large, grey wing protruding from his back.

Like I said, Harry, Jenova said solemnly, you've made a spectacle of yourself. This is my mark. A gift and curse bestowed by my cells. Oh dear, your infamy's going to skyrocket, you know that?

CHAPTER 16 ANNOTATIONS:

Originally, this chapter was titled Voldemort Makes His Move, but I decided The Mark of Jenova would be more interesting. I very nearly called it One-Winged Angel, but I'd already used that for Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage. Plus, it might have given people the idea that Sephiroth would appear.

By the way, Hermione did manage to set Quirrell's robes on fire, but she was too late. So in case you're wondering why she didn't manage to do anything, well, there you have it.

1. I liked this little scene in the film, where Snape gives Harry what seems a bit like a backhanded compliment. So, given how Snape is developing in this story, I thought I would put a modified version of it here, instead of Snape taking points off Harry for bringing a library book outdoors. Snape in my story is by no means a nice guy, but he's certainly becoming nicer than in canon.

2. Yes, this is the actual Chocobo theme.

3. I'm sure it's a hotly-debated topic in fandom whether Voldemort and Bellatrix had sex. I personally think that, at least for this story, they did (try getting THAT mental image out of your head. :P). That being said, Voldemort doesn't actually love Bellatrix. He's incapable of it. But he is attracted to her, and Bellatrix is attracted to him (there IS a difference between lust and love, and she's attracted to his power rather than his post-horcrux looks), and I'm sure Bellatrix's husband would be honoured that his wife was the concubine of the Dark Lord. Not like he'd object, anyway, or else he'd get an Avada Kedavra to the face.

CHAPTER 16 SOUNDTRACK:

Quidditch Match: Zidane's Theme, from Final Fantasy IX, composed by Nobuo Uematsu.

Harry's in Trouble!: Silver Dragons, from Final Fantasy IX, composed by Nobuo Uematsu

Harry's Wing: Seymour's Theme, from Final Fantasy X HD, composed by Nobuo Uematsu, and arranged by Junya Nakano.