"Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand."
~W.B Yeats
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me if it did, I would be living in a castle, not writing about one (well, actually, I might write about one anyway). I do lay claim to a couple of the creatures below, however, so if you don't recognize it, don't borrow it without telling me :P
Emerging from the forest's edge were all sorts of fantastical creatures. Creatures of myth and legend, fact and fiction, creatures she had dreamed of, and some she had not conceived in her wildest imaginings.
Centaurs, their chests bare and proud, stood unafraid several feet from the line of trees, gazing steadily up towards the newly reformed castle where she stood. There was a herd, or flock, of creatures reminiscent in her mind of the legendary griffon, only they had the bodies of something like a horse, rather than a lion. Scattered here and there were several obvious, well, Trolls, with their luminescent green skin and mossy patches of hair, complete with loincloths and protruding jaws. Farther into the sheltering forest, she caught glimpses of startling white, a curving spiral horn; a tear slid down her face, because there were Unicorns.
Under the tall pines, in the dark of the underbrush glowed various eyes, of varying size and shade; there a tuft of dark fur, there a gleaming claw, skittering legs, a scattering of feathers, white brown, gray, gold, all hiding in the sheltering in the shadowy green thicket.
She took an instinctual step forward, and before she knew it she was through the window, past overgrown hedges and stone paths split by wildflowers, until she stood at the edge of the grounds, no twinge of fear felt at her nearness to what were more than a few dubious and unknown beings.
Tiny scuttling creatures with numerous eye-stalks, branch covered stick-like people nearly blending into the trees they clung to, tiny winged blurs of blue, a few stunning nymphs or perhaps dryads flitted around curiously, their attentions fixed upon her as if she was the rare creature here. There, too, were animals she knew from home, badgers and butterflies, deer and squirrels.
Suddenly from out of the forest came a small brown blur of fuzz, dashing towards her, leaping straight through the boundary, which made an odd little sucking popping sound, somehow and sounds itself about her feet. Once reaching this destination it slowed considerably, and she could see it clearly; but it was quite literally nothing more than a brown blur really. It stood on four, well, feet she supposed, at a height of about six inches and was about a foot and a half in length, however, its brown fur overwhelmed whatever body it possessed, as no eyes or appendages were visibly discernible through its thick fur, which, at such a volume ought to have been coarse, but as it rubbed against her ankles she could feel that one could liken it to the softest of chenille like those giant animal pillows sold in superstores. It also seemed to be emanating a strong scent of...gingerbread cookies?
She scooped the wriggling creature up, burying her face in its soft scruff, and inhaled the soothing scent, forgetting for a moment that all was not yet finished.
Such moments cannot last, however, and she was soon jarred from her several seconds of comfort by a discordant cacophony sounding overhead. That, and a rushing of wings, heralded the arrival of yet more guests, which swooped down directly inside of the shield, landing between her and the castle.
This gave her a moment's pause, because if both the adorable creature in her arms and the rather terrifying beings in front of here eyes could break through what she had assumed was some sort of protection, what else would be able to get through? That was a worry for another time, though, nothing to be done about it now, she thought. The new arrivals were rather fearsome to behold: a herd of seven, their bodies vaguely equine, but quite gaunt, ribs showing through taut leathery black skin, heads slightly draconian, bones stark and angled, with great webbed bat-like wings. It was the strangest thing, though, for although they looked like nightmares* and she knew that their stark white eyes ought to be eliciting a feeling of fear, they seemed rather to radiate calm, even the nymphs had ceased their nervous twittering and all the small winged beings seemed to hover in place, transfixed. She rather thought that she ought not to have expectations for anything normal at this point, her own responses included, and quit that mindset rather quickly. She wondered, instead, whether, if she slid her hand over their glistening flanks, if it would be as slippery smooth as it appeared, like seal skin.
What an odd scene this would make, if anyone were to see it. A vast forest, a tree line teeming with mystical beasties, a glowing bubble of magic, and withing that, our Heroine, neck now wreathed in wriggling brown fuzz, drifting slowly over to a small herd of seven reptilian-bat-like-winged-horses standing stock still outside a newly redeemed stone castled covered in herbs and flowering vines. And, as one would imagine, things were only bound to get odder, and sadder, and more wonderful, and probably a bit more foolish as well.
She hadn't realized she was moving, but then her outstretched hand met a translucent black coat, its bone hard plane sleek and warm under her palm. A large head swing over, butting at her hand, nostrils whuffing warm air set over horse-like mouths ruined by, about an inch of jutting fangs, white and sharp, which startled her and, as her head jerked up, her eyes were met with the swirling white fog of Her eyes, which were hunting in the forest, strange sounds, wings beating away, flee, brought low with a burst of pain/fear/grief/loss/pain/pain/pain, then, sorrow and pity, burst of a Great Magic, flying, free, pride, warm comfort and she was more than a little astonished as she realized that these beings were empaths, and horror at the thought that this entire herd had been made to experience some small part of her ordeal with her comfort, acceptance, anger, sorrow, strong-us strong-you, the eyes spoke to her.
"I'm so sorry." she said, felt, at them.
Rejection.
Sick glee, wrongness, pleasure, wrong, wrong, wrong...
"Oh, dear god, you felt their emotions too, didn't you?" she gagged, and pearlescent eyes radiated sadness and compassion and a deep abiding anger for what had been done to her, for all they had felt, been made to feel in this place, that was their home. She remembered then, because she was not alone, because it was time to end this, and as she strode back into the great hall of the castle, she had a herd of seven at her back.
There, on the floor, her captors, her tormenters, her murderers, knelt still, prostrate. For a moment she felt a vague surprise, a small tremor, that they should still be here when their taint had been wiped clean from everything else, everything but her, but their memories. But there they were, on the lush wild green her magic had wrought over the cold marble stone floor.
They were defenseless now, magic-less, as human as she had been when they had brought her here, to use her, use her as if she was nothing more than their tool, a prop for their ambitions. She had the power now, to do to them what had been done to her. She could thrust her power into them, yank out their intestines, could make them crawl, make them beg she...couldn't.
She was not them, she was the person she had been, the thing they had made of her, and now the being magic had wrought of her, what she had made of herself, after everything she was still herself, some version of herself, and so, as she stared into their eyes, their empty eyes, empty of magic, of thought, of that indefinable spark, no longer filled with an emptiness of cold uncaring that they had held for her before, she wanted only to finished it. Their deaths came swiftly on the edges of blades conjured, and all she felt was a faint relief at having this final end tied, and the deep aching sorrow that she had a notion would remain with her for quite some time, as their lifeless bodies slumped to the floor, blood pooling around them.
Her winged companions fed then, rending flesh, and she watched it all with her relief and her sorrow, until not a speck of blood or flesh or bone was left to mar this space. Death was finished with this place. Seven satisfied winged beasties whistling and chirping happily, one cute comforting Gingerbread Monster, and she were all that remained.
* Nightmares- a shout out to a rather lovely ominous creature created by Piers Anthony- a creature that, as its name might suggest, delivers bad dreams to the other beings in its unique universe.
A/N: Thanks to those of you who are taking the time to follow this story. Once again, reviews are appreciated, please review, you will be given fictional dark side cookies and thoughtful (probably) responses. That said, many thanks to the lovely Andrea for reviewing my first three chapters! Your words were both kind and interesting. I hope to post a new chapter every week, although this one took about two weeks, which will hopefully be the maximum amount of time between chapters barring natural disasters and/or writer's block. :)