Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Co belong not to me.
Notes: Ugh, dammit, this is what I get for reading old stuff done by AJT. An idea and the snippets that came out of it. Borrowing some ideas with permission for some things. May or may not turn this into an actual fic.
-o-o-o-
Drip.
It was the first thing he noticed, the first thing he sensed. The quiet sound of a single drop hitting the black sea in front of him rushed hungrily to his ears. He felt it, the way it seemed to send the same ripples through him that it did the ones smooth as glass surface that seemed to shine like polished onyx.
Fear was the next.
It clutched at his chest, digging deep, tearing into him without remorse or mercy. Everything was darkness and shadow all around him, save for the slightest sliver of a moon, hanging almost invisible over head, and dying against the choking surge of darkness. Thick, oily and viscous as it clung like putrid slime to his body, weighing him down, pulling him into the pool he found himself surrounded in.
Then, the memories came.
Splintered moments at first. A flash of surprise on a familiar face, that changed into the empty gaze of glazed over death. Pain, flashing across his hand. Scales, so many, glistening against the laughter of a boy, twisted by his own selfish hungers.
Then they melted and bled into longer, drawn out moments. Faces, pain, emotions, sensations. Stronger and stronger as the memories came again, and again, assaulting him like nothing he'd ever imagined before. Everything he'd ever endured, everything he'd ever faced, stabbing like the barking report of machine gun fire into the depths of his mind.
How easily you falter.
The words themselves crashed into him with a glacial disdain as they ground down into him, forcing him to search around, eyes wild, fighting against the onslaught of memories being forced through his mind. And immediately, a new sensation joined them. Anger.
"What in Merlin's name…?!"
Calling out the name of a dead man will do you no good here, Harry Potter. Crawling in the dark, hiding, crying like the pitiful little creature you are.
He could feel the sneer in the voice as it again, slammed down on him like a crashing wave from all sides as he struggled against his buckling knees. "Who are you?! What do you want?!"
Want? Do you think a little thing like you could offer me anything, hmmm? No. This isn't about want, not at all.
The words burned into him, an acidic touch of scorn as the thing, whatever it was, spoke. "Then, why the bloody hell am I HERE?!"
We're dying, foolish little child. That thing, that abomination, has invaded us, forced itself into us, and soon, there will be nothing left.
"We?" That sounded so… different, so off as he paused, the sensations, the darkness, slamming into him again, as he could feel every loss, every pain, every drop of darkness dragging him down, as he could feel an icy chill of weariness clutching stronger and stronger at his limbs. "Dying…?"
And here you are, standing there, dumbfounded like a gaping little minnow before the serpent's maw. How does it feel, to die as something so insignificant? To end as nothing more than a pawn, a toy, a puppet, a little piece on the board, moved about by every hand but his own?
Harry paused a moment, before his lips actually twitched just a bit, while a soft, wooden chuckle escaped his lips, as he stared back out into the darkness, for a moment as he let the memories slide off of him. "Am I supposed to know how it feels to be anything else?"
For a moment, there was silence, nothing to answer him back as he could feel another rising surge of those aching, burning memories rising to batter him again. Then, he heard it again, softer now, the tone, a quite mournful thing, like a dirge in the night.
Yes, you are. You are supposed to be the hand, not the sword. You are supposed to be the Master, not the servant. Yet, here we are trapped and drowning in a pool of filth forced upon us.
"And if that's who I'm supposed to be. What about you?" The words hissed past his lisp as he would narrow his eyes, feeling how they seemed to know, to face, exactly where the voice came from. Knowing, exactly where it was.
Me? I was supposed to be your salvation. But, you've almost thrown me aside, neglected me, looking at me only when another forced you to, never on your own. I waited for you, Harry Potter. To come to me, to know me, to embrace me. But instead, you were content to fall into the arms of others, letting them guide you, relying on them, and only, oh so rarely on me.
There was a pause, before suddenly, the voice was triumphant, crowing out as it spoke, filling him with a warmth that wrapped around him like almost nothing he'd ever felt before.
But when you did! Oh, how glorious it was! To run free, to be unleashed, to feel those few, rare moments where you allowed yourself to stand on your own merits, your own strength!
"...What are you...?" The words again fell past his lips, and in an instant, the warmth fled him, leaving him suddenly cold, so acutely aware of the oily filth clinging to him, dragging him deeper and deeper.
You should already know.
"Well, I bloody don't!" Again the anger came, as he began to struggle, fighting back against the darkness, against the filth against the cold, slow fall into the shadow. "I've never heard you!"
I've whispered to you, I've called to you, I've screamed at you, I've cried for you! I've begged you, again and again! But you never listened! I've been there, EVERY moment of your life! I've SAVED you, but you DARE to tell me you don't know me?! That you've NEVER HEARD ME?!
"I HAVEN'T!" Harry snarled then, his body struggling, fighting back against the muck and filth as he could feel it, suddenly seeming to come alive, fighting back fighting to pull him deeper, to swallow him whole, even as he could feel the defiance building up inside of him. "Don't you think I WANTED someone to talk to?! SOMEONE TO BE THERE?! Someone that would NEVER leave me?! I NEVER HEARD YOU!"
Well, you can hear me now. What're you going to do about it?
"Are you going to tell me what you are?!" The boy growled softly, even as he could feel the tension growing, the muck, the filth pulling him deeper, lashing against him, dragging him down. "Or is this just some kind of sick little game to you while you watch me die?!"
You know what I am. Realize that, and you have a chance to save us both. Light up our darkness, Harry Potter. Stop running from the truth of who you are.
"And what the bloody hell is that?!"
Why, Hagrid told you the first day you met him. You're a wizard, Harry Potter.
Suddenly, it clicked, and in that instant, the sliver of the moon the waxing light of the moon overhead, froze, before suddenly, the remaining sliver of light fought back against the coming darkness. In an instant, there was no longer the barest sliver of light, as the moon waned visibly before him. And in that instant, she was revealed.
She was beautiful in a way he couldn't put words to. Her hair, falling like a flowing rainbow past her shoulder each strand a different color, as her eyes glowed in an ever shifting sea of hues. For that moment, nothing else seemed to exist, before he finally put his realization to words.
"You're... my magic." Instantly the sinking tug cased, as he could feel it, flowing down retreating from his skin, from his body as he stared into her eyes.
Indeed. Now... Say my name, and you'll never be alone again.
-o-o-o-
"You've..." The sound of Voldemort's voice, rippling arrogantly past Harry's lips was cut short as his eyes suddenly widened in shock. "No... NO!"
Albus Dumbledore could only stare in shock as Harry suddenly pushed himself up, his eyes burning emeralds once more as he stared defiantly into the Hall of Mysteries around them. Then, the boy's voice spoke up in a firm whisper. "Illuminate my path in shadows, and light my way through the darkness... Ceridwen!"
The air rent with a scream as suddenly Voldemort was expelled, violently from the body he'd forced his way into, and from the soul he'd tried so desperately to snuff out. For a moment, as the air quivered before as a dark mist flowed off Harry's body. As the boy slowly came to his feet, his eyes, hard, he stared angrily as it formed into the shocked, outraged face of Voldemort.
"You're a fool, Harry Potter!" The words, hissed past the thing that had once been a man's lips as he glared back at the boy in pure, venomous hatred.
And in that instant, as his wand rose up to strike, the magic pouring out of Harry suddenly cocooned itself around in like a protective shield, before suddenly exploding outwards, blasting the dark wizard backwards off his feet. As he righted himself, his eyes suddenly blurring, the world around him spinning, Voldemort could hear the boy's voice piercing through the air. "No, Voldemort, I'm a wizard."
As his eyes again fell into focus, the Dark Lord could only stare in absolute shock at the boy he'd so effortlessly struck down only moment's before. Little had changed physically, he still bore the scrapes and wounds of battle, but now, a white jacket hung about his shoulders, plain save for the eight colored lines intertwining up his sleeve, red, green, blue, yellow, black, bronze, silver and gold. Behind that jacket, wings of crimson and gold feathers stretched out, almost glowing in the dark lobby of the Ministry, with the boy's wand pointed directly at him.
"And we're not done." A blast golden magic blasted out from his hand, flowing through the wand, filling it until it too almost seemed ready to explode with it's energy, before an eruption of eight balls of glowing, golden light shot out, arching like claws through the air before each of them raced towards Voldemort.
Snarling in fury, the Dark Lord quickly switched through his shields. Batting away, deflecting, or absorbing the powerful spheres of magic. Buckling against the force, the man hissed back in fury even as he rose back to stand tall, proud as his eyes stared back into the boy's. "So it would seem."
"Have you forgotten already, Voldemort?" Harry cocked his head to the side, his eyes burning with magic, before he suddenly slashed his arm, sending a cutting line of blue energy sweeping like a blade, slashing towards the man's head. "You're supposed to bow."
Ducking beneath the blade, Voldemort was forced into a semblance of the pose Harry had described, before rising up, his eyes burning even hotter as he ignored the sounds of the various floo entrances suddenly coming active, spewing out people as he sent a sickly purple blast of light back at Harry in response. "So kind of you to remind me, BOY!"
The tip of the glowing wand rose up, at that last instant, catching against the spell and batting it aside as it crashed into the fountain before he flicked his wand downwards, a spell splashing into the stone floor between them as suddenly pebbles spewed forth, rocketing towards Voldemort. "Always happy to be of service."
A hiss of anger burned through the thin, pale lips as a shield quickly rose up, deflecting the pebbles back at Harry, who merely shielded himself with a wing, before batting the rest of the stones aside.
It was then that a new, trembling voice rose through the air. "He's... He's back... He's HERE!! AURORS!"
As Fudge squealed, Voldemort turned his head, for only an instant, before twisting out of the way of another slashing blue blade of energy from Harry's wand. Growling in frustration, the man's eyes burned back towards the boy. "Another time then, Potter."
"Time that's running out for you, murderer." Harry growled back, even as he watched Voldemort vanish into a cloud of dust, and disperse.
As the rest of the assembled Ministry staff stared in absolute shock, Dumbledore finally found his voice again as he stared back at the boy. "Harry... What happened...?"
"Isn't it obvious, Professor?" Harry grinned, his head cocking slightly to the side. "I found my magic."
-o-o-o-
It wasn't too much later that Harry found himself seated, once more in simply his scuffed up school robes, as he stared around the Headmaster's office. Shoulders shifting slightly, he couldn't shake the way his mind slipped back, remembering the feeling of those great wings weighing back against him and for a moment, he allowed a smile to curl on his lips. Then, the rest of the memories of that night returned, and it faded as if turned to ash on his lips.
Sirius was gone.
Even with the strength he'd gained, he'd still lost another connection he had to his family. Fingers lightly clenched onto his wand, as he felt his eyes screw shut against the sudden rush of sensation as the full impact of the realization hit him. He was one step closer to being alone again.
Now, now. You'll never be alone again, remember?
Frozen for only a moment, Harry's eyes had flashed open once more as he could feel the name slipping past his lips. "Ceridwen…?"
What do you know, you actually DO have some brains you can use on your own.
Harry immediately scowled as he gripped his fingers a bit tighter onto his chair. "Do you have to be such a…" He paused, struggling for the right word as he narrowed his eyes slightly.
Bitch? No, but I am one, so get used to it.
"Wonderful." The words left his lips with a lame grumble as he slumped back into the seat, his fingers slipping up, rubbing against his temples.
Isn't it? Ah, and it just felt so GOOD to be let loose like that! And the look on that little parasite's face!
"… It was nice." Harry admitted quietly before he turned his head off to the side, glancing at Fawkes empty perch as his eyes glazed over slightly, and again his thoughts slipped back towards Sirius.
…Must we do this now? You've done something that no wizard has done in the better part of a thousand years, and all you're doing is moping like a little child. Is this what he would've wanted, hmmm?
"I don't know." The words fell with a painful truth as he shrugged slightly, his eyes leaving the perch to where he could see Dumbledore's penseive serenely still on it's stand. "I never got to know him that well."
Well, at least you're mourning the right thing then.
"The right reasons?"
Mourning the loss of what you could have had, instead of what you did. To live with someone who cared for you, to have someone to return to. To have a home.
"Would have been nice." Harry answered quietly as he leaned back in the chair a bit more, letting his eyes begin to close.
"What would have been nice, Harry?" The familiar voice of the Albus Dumbledore broke into the boy's reverie, causing him to sigh slightly as his eyes flashed open once more.
"To have a home. To live with someone who cared for me," Harry answered as he lightly studied the elderly man in front of him. "Professor."
"You know, you do have a home, Harry…" The man began as he gently let his words rise into the air.
"If you put a home for me, in the same breath as living with the Dursleys… you won't like my reaction, Sir." There was a pulse in the air that the old man could feel, as Ceridwen offered her silent support of the boy's words, his emerald eyes hard as they burned up past the old man's spectacles.
And the old man's gaze faltered as again, as he had so many times of late, turned his head away, unable to keep Harry's gaze. "I see… I had hoped…"
"I'm not going back there." Harry spoke softly then, filling the air as he continued to watch Dumbledore. "And I'm not going to stop exercising magic this summer."
"Harry, you must understand…" The protest died on his lips as Dumbledore again simple felt that magic pulse, stronger this time, filling the air around them.
"No, Professor, YOU need to understand. She won't hold back, not anymore. She won't play by those rules, she won't let herself be bundled away like she has every year." He paused a moment, his lip twitching slightly towards a grin before he shook his head. "The genie's out of the bottle, and she's not going back."
Indeed.
"Harry, I know after what happened tonight, you think you're strong…"
"No, actually I don't." Harry let loose a quiet, bitter chuckle as he slowly shook his head. "I was lucky, and I didn't think. I simply did… I don't even know HOW I did what I did… Which is why I CAN'T just sit around doing nothing magical this summer."
"It's not that simple, Harry..." The man wearily walked behind his desk and slowly slipped down into his chair. "There are... things that you're not aware of."
It was then that Harry noticed the newly reborn Fawkes in Dumbledore's hand, as the man settled the chirruping little phoenix on his desk in front of him. Steeling himself, Harry brought his eyes up to the man and spoke again. "I know. I got Sirius killed because I wasn't aware, because of all the things I didn't know, because of all the things I didn't do. I'm NOT going to let anyone else die because I'm lacking!"
So you say, so you say. Let's see if you're able to actually live up to that promise, hmmm? Personally, I have my doubts.
"Shut up, Ceri." Harry grunted with a whisper as he shook his head slightly at the taunting voice in his ear as he shifted slightly, ignoring the way Dumbledore's eyebrow rose questioningly as the man spoke again.
"Harry, Sirius' death is not your fault." Quietly the man again spoke up as his eyes turned away, the guilt flashing through them as he released a quiet weary breath. "His death... It is a result of my failings, not yours."
"You aren't the one who lead a bunch of undertrained students into a Death Eater trap." Harry closed his eyes tightly as he shook his head. "Are they...?"
"They're all being seen by Madam Pomfrey, other than young Nymphadora, who is at St. Mungos." Dumbledore managed a quiet little smile at that, his eyes lifting towards Harry's own. "They'll all be fine."
As a sigh of relief escaped his lips, Harry slumped back visibly into his seat. "That's... good." He paused a moment, frowning just a bit before he looked up at Dumbledore, his eyes suddenly dulled over as another thought hit him. "I... I need to talk to Tonks, and her mother. I have to... to apologize, about Sirius."
"Harry, as I said, it was my fault." The man seemed suddenly very much his age, ancient and weary as he slumped down into his chair. "If I had been more open with you about what was going on... If I hadn't trusted that Severus would be able to put aside his... lingering resentment towards your father." A slow, deep breath filled Dumbledore's lungs, before it escaped like a soft a papery rasp. "I know you think very little of him, but..."
"Every time, after every lesson, this..." Harry tapped his finger against the jagged lightning bolt scar atop his head. "Hurt even worse than it did before. Every time he ripped into my mind, tearing through it, ripping into my memories..."
"I should have seen to yours lessons myself, I know." The man murmured the words as he turned his head, staring off into the distance before looking back at the boy. "But, after we knew for certain that there was a connection between your minds... I had to distance myself from you, to make it look to Tom as if you were nothing more than just another student, so he wouldn't try harder and harder to break into your mind."
"And it worked out so brilliantly." He could feel the anger pulsing inside of him, a churning, burning thing as his eyes locked onto the Professor. "All this, all for what? What is so bloody important about a damned glass bauble?!"
"It contained a prophesy." The man spoke with the softest of voices again, before wordlessly he summoned his pensieve, before he would place the tip of his want to his forehead, before pulling the silvery thread of memory from his mind and placing it into the bowl. "One, which pertained to him, and his defeat."
Frowning at the way the man skirted around the issue, Harry turned his head down and stared at the bowl, saying nothing as he frowned and lightly let his gaze trace around it's rim.
Well, isn't that just as delightfully typical of the man. Leading us around by the nose, having us jump through hoops. Are you just going to go along with it, like a whipped dog, hmm?
The frown on his face, deepened even further, as he flicked his eyes away from the pensieve to stare back up at the man as his emerald eyes narrowed warily. "A prophesy, which is apparently about me, that you've waited until NOW to tell me about?"
Taken slightly aback, Dumbledore paused, his mouth hung open as for a moment, he was lost for words to answer back. Finally, after sinking even further back into his chair, the man slowly shook his head as he spoke. "I wanted you to have a normal life, to have a childhood, without the kinds of..."
"If you wanted me to have a childhood, you shouldn't have sent me to live with the Dursleys," Harry snapped back as his eyes flashed again, the sudden pulse of anger only heightened by the raw ache of his loss, "In a cupboard under the stairs."
"When your parent's faced Tom, on that Halloween, all those years ago, your mother... She did something absolutely extraordinary." The man paused a moment, again collecting his thoughts before he would slowly, quietly continue. "She gave her life, creating a shield to protect you, through her love, and her blood. Love that was strong enough to reflect Tom's spell back onto him."
"And the point of this is..?" Harry glared slightly back at the man, even as he would cross his arms about his chest.
"As long as you lived with someone with that blood, your mother's blood, that shield remained and you continued to be protected from Tom," Dumbledore answered, even as his eyes slipped to Harry's again. "Your aunt, Petunia."
"That shield is gone, or at least doesn't work anymore." Harry snapped back, as his eyes started to burn from another spark of anger. "Hasn't for a year now. Not since he used my blood in that ritual after..." He paused there, his eyes suddenly screwing shut as he took a slow deep breath to steady himself. "After he had Pettigrew kill Cedric."
Wincing visibly under the tone, and the flow of emotions he could read pouring out of the boy's mind, Dumbledore turned his head again. "I had hoped that it would offer some measure of protection."
Even if it did, doesn't do anything against what someone else does against us, now does it? Who needs to get their hands dirty when you can have someone else do it for you?
"What about from the rest of his little followers and people following his orders? According to you, it's supposed to be protection from HIM, and ONLY him." Harry snapped back as he voiced Ceridwen's concerns.
Wordlessly, Dumbledore tapped his wand against the edge of the pensieve and suddenly, a disturbingly familiar distortion of Sibyll Trelawney's voice rose into the air. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."
Harry sat there, frozen in shock as he couldn't help but blink slightly as he stared to the quickly dispersing image in front of him.
…Harry, do remind me to stop tempting fate. Of all the… Still… note it says nothing about killing, maiming or torturing.
"Must you always be so cheerful, Ceri?" Harry growled sarcastically before he turned his head and stared again at the man in front of him. "This is… I was born at the end of July, but…"
"Until that night, all those years ago, it came down to two young boys. Both of whom had parent who defied Tom three times previously and lived. Both of which were born at the end of July. Yourself, and Neville Longbottom." Dumbledore spoke the words softly, quietly, so softly as they left his lips. "And Neville was not marked."
Instinctively his fingers slipped up to touch the scar atop his head before Harry slowly and forcefully fought down the anger that was quickly roaring through his veins. "And… I'm just NOW finding out about all this?"
"Was I supposed to force this on a boy? On a child who had already faced and triumphed over insurmountable odds? To tell you, after you'd faced Tom over the Philospher's stone? The Basilisk and his shade? The dementors for Sirius? The Tournament and his return?" The man let loose a quiet, weary sigh as he shook his head, looking away for a moment. "After all those times, when you were triumphant or in despair?"
"... There was the rest those years in between those events wouldn't have been the perfect time?" Harry stared back at the man, as he struggled again against the burning flash of anger that threatened to erupt through him.
Well, at least you're learning a bit.
As Dumbledore's face fell slightly, he turned his head and nodded in quiet acceptance. "There never seemed to be a right time for it. And now... Now I couldn't put it off any longer. I am truly sorry to have to lay this on you, so soon after Sirius..."
"...Where was Sirius when I flooed his home?" Once more the boy slumped back into his seat, rubbing at his temples fighting down the headache that wanted to very much to consume what remained of his mind. "Kreacher..."
"Lied to you." Those three words brought Harry up short as his eyes widened in shock. "Sirius was upstairs, tending to an injury Kreacher himself had given Buckbeak. He both lied to you, and performed the action as the urging of someone he still respected."
"Who." Harry's eyes had gone flat, cold as he locked his eyes onto the old man's and stared back at him.
"Harry... Please, there is little reason to..."
"Who was it, Professor?"
Dumbledore turned his head away, unable to meet the teen's burning eyes as he continued. "Harry, don't start down that path. Do not act out of anger or spite, it can cost you what you value the most."
"I need to know." Harry took a moment, a deep, firm breath filling his lungs, before he wearily exhaled. "What they took... It wasn't just Sirius. It was everything I'd ever dreamed of having my whole life. Everything I've wanted since as long as I can remember."
And we will make them pay for it.
"You will not be swayed in this, will you?" There was a resignation in those world weary eyes as the Headmaster quietly nodded his head in unhappy acceptance. "Narcissa Malfoy."
For a moment Harry said nothing, merely sitting there, his eyes closed as he let those thoughts run through his mind for a long, long moment, before finally he released another slow breath and nodded his head. "Thank you, Professor."
Of course, it would have to be a Malfoy. Well, I suppose we'll need to talk to Nymphadora and her mother, perhaps they can give us a bit of... insight into them.
Wincing reflexively at the use of Tonks' first name, Harry canted his head just a bit in acknowledgment before standing up and nodding to Dumbledore. "If there's nothing else, Professor..."
"Harry... is your magic actually talking to you?" There was a note of questioning wonder in the man's voice as he stared at the boy, who shrugged slightly back at him.
"Well, yes... I get the feeling I'm going to eventually wish I had a way to shut her up though." Harry managed a slight grin as his eyes let go of the pain for just a brief moment.
Hmph. No need to be rude, Harry.
"There… There were legends that wizards could speak to their magic. They say that was how the founders built Hogwarts, that they were among the last to know the secret to it." The hesitant wonder in the man's voice made Harry frown slightly before he offered a shake of his head back at the man.
"Only method I know, I wouldn't recommend. Having someone attempt to slowly destroy your soul isn't a pleasant experience… and from what I gather, if your magic doesn't find you worthy… well…" Harry left it hanging there as he shook his head.
Quite right, quite right.
"I see… Thank you, Harry." Dumbledore nodded his head a moment before speaking again. "I'll see what I can do about visiting young Nymphadora."
"Thank you, Professor." And with that Harry turned and tiredly walked back out of the office.
-o-o-o-
"Well, well, what've we got here? Running around after curfew, Scarhead?" The snide taunting tone immediately sent a spike of anger running through Harry's veins as he clenched his fingers tightly back into fists.
"Malfoy." The word was practically spat past Harry's lips before he turned around, and coldly glared at the sneering blonde. "Go away, I'm in no mood to tolerate you tonight."
"Oooh, forgetting how things are, already? When I tell Headmistress Umbridge about this…" The taunting sneer grew positively gleeful at the prospect and caused Harry to freeze in place for a moment.
Ooooh, this should be FUN!
A cold smile suddenly drew across Harry's lips as he took a moment to meet the silvery eyes of a suddenly wary Draco. "Oh, I guess you're out of the loop, Draco. To be expected I suppose, what with your father probably undergoing interrogation with the Aurors right now." Enjoying the slight look of disbelief on Malfoy's face, Harry nodded his head even as he continued. "And as to dear, dear Delores… Well, let's just say that Professor Dumbledore is Headmaster once more."
"Even if my father was arrested, the Minister…" Draco's head lifted imperiously as he glared back at the boy.
"Saw ole snakeface, in person tonight, in the Ministry. The same place where a group of Death Eaters, including your father, had invaded and been subdued, still in their full regalia." Harry paused a moment watching the look of growing horror on the boy's face before he narrowed his own eyes, suddenly clenching his wand tightly. "Oh… and do tell your dear mother that we're going to have a… talk about what she and her sister did."
His eyes instantly narrowing Draco snapped his wand forward, aiming it directly towards Harry. "Don't you dare threaten her, Potter!"
"Ceridwen." The word was spoken firmly past his lips, before suddenly the rush of power was surging through him once more, the power cocooning around him before exploding outwards, leaving him transformed once more as he stared angrily back at a shocked Draco. "Be very, very careful about who you point your wand at, Malfoy."
As Harry spread out his wings, his own wand rose up, glaring angrily back at the boy in front of him as he almost hissed his words out. "Because that person might be just looking for an excuse, ANY excuse, to curse you into oblivion."
Oooh, I do so LOVE it when you talk that way!
Fear quietly saturated Draco's eyes as he stared at the sudden transformation Potter had undergone, the barely contained temper in his eyes, begging him for an excuse, a reason to release itself on him, finally, lowering his wand the boy glared lightly back at Harry. "This isn't over, Scarhead."
"You're right. It's not." And with a knowing nod, Harry glared at the blonde boy once more before turning, and stalking off, his transformation flashing away once he'd turned a corner.
Releases:
Nymphadora:
She frowned slightly as she became aware of her surroundings. A dark, elegant hallway, the walls lined half way with a precise, graceful mahogany paneling that graduated into a pure black wallpaper. Elegant vines of silver twined across the ebony surface, catching the slight, flickering light of black wrought iron lamps, opaque glass shaped like blossoming roses casting a dim wave of silvery light.
Beneath her feet, she could feel the cool touch of smooth stone, and as she took a moment to glance down, she could see the tightly placed panes of smooth, polished black granite casting her reflection back into her eyes. For a moment, she hesitated, her lip drawn back into her mouth, caught between her teeth as a swelling of worry and trepidation blossomed in her chest. "Hello…?"
You already know I'm here, Nymphadora. Just as I know WHY you've come.
"Ok, that's just creepy." The woman shuddered slightly as she could feel the voice pulsing through her mind without a sound, before her eyes flashed in a slight spark of anger. "And don't call me by that name."
Please, child, you're in no position to make ANY demands of me. I will call you exactly as you are, young Black, nothing less.
"My name is TONKS!" She growled as the anger began to burn as she stared into the depth of shadows the hallway lead into. "Don't you DARE compare me to those arrogant pillocks!"
Oh? An interesting way of remembering Sirius.
"Sirius was a Black in name only." She shook her head, feeling the way the raw surge of pain again shot through her chest. "Or are you forgetting the Tapestry? Dear Great-Aunt Walpurgia…"
And yet, it was he who inherited the home. Not the ones that followed her ideals. Curious, don't you think?
"Voldemort killed Regulus." She spat back as she ignored the cool way the voice echoing through her mind reminded her so very much of her Aunt Narcissa, and with it, memories of how her little scheme had cost Sirius his life. "And Sirius was thrown into Azkaban for betraying the Potters to Voldemort. His mother probably figured he'd become the Black she'd always wanted him to be."
A reasonable explanation.
She twitched at the half amused, prompting drawl that echoed through her mind as she tightly clenched her eyes shut a moment, before opening them again. "But, you don't agree."
I AM a Black, my dear lost little Nymphadora. Just as you are, even as you deny it. And unlike you, I can hear the way the magic sings in our home. It is an old, old thing, and it is why Black is known as a most Ancient and Noble house.
"Right, Noble." A snort was heard as she glared back into the darkness, even as a snarling sneer pulled itself across the normally smiling woman's face. "I've seen plenty of the great 'Nobility' of the Blacks."
Yes, you have. In Sirius.
She flinched at that, as the point dug home. "Sirius was who he was in SPITE of everything his house was."
Poor lost little gift. All wrapped up in what so recently was, not what was once, long before the House was Ancient.
"And wot the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Language, my dear, dear little girl. Really, is it too much to ask for you to show a little bit of the culture I KNOW you have, hmmm? You can hide it all you want beneath that crass little show you like to put on, but I know you know how to behave properly.
"Not gonna happen." The flat edge in her voice was a sharp length of steel as she spoke, her arms falling across her chest as she lifted her head in angry defiance.
Mmm, so very, very much a Black, a true Black at least.
"I told you…" The voice just continued to grate on her nerves, digging under her skin with such a casual ease that she couldn't help but hate, just like her Aunt Narcissa.
And so stubborn too. Let me put it this way, little Nymphadora, why do you think a family is ever given the title Most Ancient AND Noble, hmm?
"A lot of money." She couldn't hold back the bitterness in her voice as she let off a quick, dry laugh. "'S how the world works ya know. The good guys work hard, fight hard for everything they get, but all the lazy, dark gits need to do, is grease enough palms."
And bit by bit, the real Nymphadora starts to shine through. The girl who smiles and laughs at the world she loathes. Fighting for people so far beneath her, they might as well be bugs on your heels.
"No bloody way." The anger was burning in her voice again as she glared back into the darkness. "I'll NEVER be like them! NEVER!"
Of course you won't. You couldn't be. But you try too hard. Chasing after a bitter fool, playing the clown, hiding your face, even throwing away your own name for the one that has nothing to do with their world. Anything, everything that could possibly connect to their foolish little pureblood society.
"Remus isn't a fool." The anger was quieter now, but still pulsed through her veins as she snarled back at the darkness. "He's a good man, a brave man…"
A man who left the only legacy of his friends, his brothers, to rot for 12 years without a word. One who couldn't even bring himself to tell the boy about his relation to his father, to his parents until he had no choice. The one who runs from everything but a fight. I will trust him with our backs, NOTHING more.
"That's not fair! He'd…"
Lost everything, yes, yes, I know. That doesn't make it right, that doesn't make up for the fact that he was willing to believe that the most loyal of his brothers would turn traitor. It doesn't make up for the fact he let the greatest light our house has seen in generations almost gutter out, wasted away in prison!
For a moment, she was silent, the words ringing through her mind as she couldn't fight off the slight frown that swept across her lips. The points she'd made, well they did ring with a certain truth, even if she didn't quite want to admit it. "He's working to make up for it now."
Yes, by being Dumbledore's hound. Tell me, do you think he'll come to watch over Harry if Dumbledore tells him not to? Do you think he'll defy him anymore than he did last year, hmm?
She opened her mouth to answer, to rebuke her, before finally letting her lips press back together in a thin line if only for a moment before she reluctantly answered her. "What do you want?"
So many, many things. Let's not tax your little bubblegum clogged mind with them all right now.
"Suddenly, I know exactly why Harry keeps muttering about how much of a bitch his magic is." Arms crossed about her chest, she glared angrily down the dark hallway.
Oh, Ceridwen is such delightful company! Even if she's disturbingly partial to your little bubblegum form.
"… What?"
Every time he's seen her since they first met, she's taken to wearing your face, your hair, your voice… Oh, she just LOVES to tease him with it. Haven't you noticed how he can't look at you without blushing lately?
"… WHY the bloody hell did I think this was a good idea again?" She pinched the bridge of her nose, before growling softly as she shook her head. "Forget it, this isn't worth it."
What, just going to run away then, go back into hiding? Pretending to be someone you're not?
"I never sto-… I'm not hiding anything." She bit back a growl as she glared at the feminine voice laughing its way through her mind.
Oh, my dear, dear, Nymphadora… Haven't you realized it yet? I'm a part of you. I'm the one you can never hide from, the one you can never keep a secret from. The one you can't pretend with.
Scowling, she turned her head to the side letting the silence hang between them for a moment, before at last she spoke. "What do you want?"
Ah, at last, some progress! What I want, is to see you stop pretending. To start acting like the Black you are. A true Black.
"And I told you, I want…"
I said a TRUE Black! Take that bubblegum out of your brain and pay attention to what I'm telling you! I will NOT give my name to someone so craven as to hide from themselves. I will not lend my full strength to someone unworthy of wielding it. You have already long since proven you're not like those unworthy of the Black name. Are you ready to show them what it means to TRULY be of an Ancient and NOBLE house?
She stood, frozen there as she stared back into the darkness, the words stirring something inside of her, something deep, something burning with strength. For a moment, she shook her head, before she stared back into the darkness. "And what do you think it means to be a Black?"
To actually BE Noble, not just claim it! Look at Sirius if you want an example!
"So, you want me to stop showering, play a lot of pranks and tell bad jokes?" She could feel the smile curling slightly on her lips as she answered back, her eyes dancing with more than a slight bit of humor. "Oh, and hit on almost anything female that isn't related to me or already in a relationship?"
…You know what I mean.
As she grinned triumphantly, she could suddenly feel the smirk her magic had to be wearing as the feminine voice continued.
But, if you REALLY want to start hitting on females, please, show a little class and at least only hit on the pretty ones.
"Dammit."
I mean, really, you don't see ME hitting on anything female.
"I don't see you period." She countered, glaring slightly into the darkness.
True, but you haven't actually shown me that you're worthy yet.
"And what do I have to do for that?"
You have to make the choice. To truly make it, to accept it, with every part of you, to be what I said. Otherwise, you will NEVER live up to your full potential, you full power.
"I don't want power." She spoke softly, quietly as she turned her head. "That's all they ever cared about."
No, you truly don't. But, at the same time, you NEED it. To stop them, to protect what needs to be protected.
"There's something you're not telling me." Eyes narrowed into slits she glared back into the darkness as she growled softly.
Of course there is. But, that's not something you need to know just yet. Now, the question remains, are you going to stand up and take the strength you need, or leave me to languish in the dark, so you can cling to your little illusion.
Grim silence answered the voice, but, words weren't what she needed. Hollow, empty things to the voice echoing through her. Words weren't enough, but, the begrudging acknowledgement, the reluctant admission…
She stared in shock as the darkness pulled back, shrinking away as it revealed a feminine figure staring back at her with heavy lidded coal black eyes. Dark, flowing locks fell down, elegantly along the strong, beautiful features of a face sculpted with the well known beauty of the Blacks. Pale flesh, almost creamy in complexion, was caught beneath of tight fitting dress of crushed black velvet and trimmed with a flowing collection of crow feathers.
Again, she turned her face away, feeling that stab of anger burning through her just as it had every time before. "Are you trying to mock me?"
Why little Nymphadora, what did you expect, for me to be one of those little disguises you love to wear? Oh no. I told you, you don't get to hide anymore. Especially not from yourself, not when you really are so beautiful.
"You want me to look like the bitch that killed Sirius?" She hissed angrily back at the woman, who merely arched a brow back at her, lips curled back into a semblance of a smirk, indeed, looking oh so much like a young, healthy Bellatrix LeStrange.
I expect you to look like yourself. Now are you ready to finally DO what you need to?
She merely growled angrily back as her eyes flashed with a dangerous fire.
Good. Now, say my name, and accept what you need to do.
-o-o-o-
Nymphadora Tonks' eyes snapped open, as the words slipped quietly past her lips, even as her features flowed and shifted to back into the figure she'd faced in her mind. "Fly on black wings atop the war torn sky, Morrigan!"
She could feel the way the magic swelled up inside of her, before suddenly, she could feel it, how it exploded out of her, wrapping about her as the touch of wings the hue of shadows rose from her back and sent a storm of black feathers flashing around her.
Ron:
The fire was the first thing that caught his eye, burning, crackling in the depths of a stone hearth as it cast its flickering light across the room. Wrapped under its touch, a pair of chairs, steep, deep, regal pieces of furniture carved of warm, red cherry and set with black cushions. A matching table, with a set of intricately carved chess pieces was set between them, catching the light gleam of the firelight reflecting off their polished surfaces.
Instinctively his eyes were drawn to the game board, his feet quietly traversing across the fur rug covering the hardwood floor. Ignoring the walls around him, deep with a mix of books and polished, well maintained arms and armor as he made his way closer. Just as his fingers reached down to touch a piece, a voice suddenly echoed through his mind.
Don't you know it's rude to come into another's home and touch their things, boy?
Startled, he immediately jerked around, searching the room, before his eyes widened even further as he beheld the figure suddenly seated in one of those high backed chairs. A dark brow was arched up, sending a wave of wrinkles across his tanned, weathered flesh, with short, silver hair receding back, leaving a widow's peak that only seemed to make the man seem more dignified than old. He was older, around his father's age, or, perhaps a bit older, wearing a black turtle neck beneath a simple brown coat.
As those knowing brown eyes watched him, the figure lightly brought up one leg, laying it across his knee as he lightly threaded his fingers together, and suddenly Ron could hear that voice again, rippling through his mind with a cultured Scottish tinge.
Well, are you going to stand there, gaping like a fish, or are you going to show a little dignity, shut your mouth and take a seat?
Still stunned, Ron's mouth shut with an audible click as he followed the voice's instructions with a stunned nod, even as he wordlessly slipped down into the chair, staring back at the figure in front of him. Finally, after a moment of merely staring back at the seated figure across from him, the boy again found his voice. "Are you…?"
Who else would I be? I'm most assuredly not your mother.
"… You're going to yell at me, aren't you." There was a kind of quiet resignation as he recalled a bit of what Harry had said his own experiences with his magic had been like.
Yell? No. I have little need to shout and scream at you, there is almost nothing it would accomplish.
"Oh, um, good, I guess…" He shifted, distinctly uncomfortable as he watched the man in front of him, those dark, knowing eyes making him want to squirm every time he met them.
No, not particularly. The problems with you are far, far more aggravating that what can be fixed by simple shouting and screaming. If they could, I do believe the young Miss Granger would have alleviated them years ago.
"What problems?" Confusion rippled across his face as he stared back at the man in front of him.
To put it simply? You're a fool. A brightly haired buffoon, a gluttonous, dim witted, jealous little boy who's too busy searching for how to stand apart from his brothers and his friends, to find how to stand as himself.
For a moment, Ron sat there in stunned silence as he stared back at the man who had listed off those faults in a calm tone that bordered on disinterest as those knowing brown eyes bore down on him. Suddenly that familiar temper flared up, flashing as the words dug with jagged force of uncomfortable truth. "Hey! Where do you get off…"
Be silent, boy.
The words cut deep, spoken with the same cultured calm that had almost clinically listed off his faults.
Do you which of these pieces you are?
A hand, gestured to the board in front of them, causing the boy to blink for a moment, before near silently he reached out, his fingers hovering over the curved head of a knight, before again he was cut off.
No.
The man's hand slipped out then, and Ron stared in shock as he lifted up a single little pawn into the air.
This, this is you, boy. A simple, straight forward piece, craving to reach the glory it seeks on the opposite end of the board. Lost to your own childish thoughts.
The pawn was replaced a moment later, settled back onto the polished wooden board, before the man picked up the knight Ron had been reaching for when he'd asked his question.
This, this is what you started to become. Your first year, you were the one sacrificing himself so his friends could go on without more than a moment's thought. I was so proud of you then, so certain that you'd live up to my expectations.
The brief swell of pride that Ron felt at the man's words was suddenly cut back into nothing as he continued.
Then you go and turn into this. Lashing out in petty jealousy. Throwing away friendship for greed and glory. You're going to be the part of a legend, but, that's not good enough for you, and to be quite frank, that makes me sick.
For a moment, Ron said nothing, merely staring back at the man across from him, before he couldn't find the strength to continue meeting that gaze. There were no words he could say, no protests he could make. All he could do, was stare down at the board in front of him, staring quietly from knight to king and back.
Oh, are you finally starting to figure it out then? Perhaps there's hope for you yet.
"Harry's the king. Always has been. He's the target, he's the leader. The Dark Lord is never going to stop chasing him. Not until one of them is dead." His voice was subdued as he reached out, lightly brushing his thumb against the mane of a knight. "Not until that final checkmate."
Each of your brothers has shown you the way to greatness, but each time, you've never seen past your own insecurities your own jealousy. The curse breaker. The star seeker and dragon handler. The scholar and worker. The pranksters and inventors. Each of them has shown you that in your family is greatness, if you simply stay true to your own path. Just as it's shown you the folly of faltering from it like your brother.
Ron gave no indication he'd heard the man, not at first, his thumb slowly stroking against the knight piece as he stared at it's polished surface. "I found my path, first year, didn't I? Then I just let it go. Not understanding it. Not knowing what I was losing. So I just drifted back into Harry and Hermione's shadow. Where it was easy, where I just went with the flow and didn't have to really make an effort…"
Thus, we come to the crux of the situation. You chose what was easy. Something your brothers never did. And because your king holds you in such high esteem, what happened, hmmm?
A look of sickened realization fell across Ron's face as he released the knight and slumped back in his chair. The quiet, hoarse whisper that escaped his lips barely rose above the crackling of the fire. "He followed me, instead of me following him. Instead of growing strong like he should have, like we should have, we took the easy way."
Now, you're having to pay for it. So much time lost because of the choices you made.
"So much strength and skill we could have had, lost because we, I, only thought about the easy way out." The guilt was hitting him, the shame digging hooks into his heart, dragging it into the pit that had become his stomach.
From here on out, you have a choice. A path you must take. The easy, the safe path, where you will find a life unburdened by responsibility, or…
"The Hard way. By Harry's side at every step of the way. Sword and shield to protect my king." Ron's eyes locked on the man's and burned back at him, determination within them.
An observation or a choice?
"You already know."
True enough I suppose, true enough. Well then, we shall see, young squire, if you can grow into the knight you could be. For now, I will lend you my strength. Dishonor it though, and…
"I won't have another chance." Ron nodded his head in agreement, bowed slightly in acknowledgment.
Then, rise, and call upon my name.
-o-o-o-
"Stand firm and hold the line, Cid." He did not shout out the call as did the others, he did not scream, he did not let his words burn with emotion. Instead, he whispered those words with a kind of reverence as he bowed his head.
In his hand, the power flowed into his wand and for a moment it glowed, cocooned in the bright veil of magic, before it too suddenly shattered as it had with the others. When it ended, gone was the slender length of blunt wood and in its place, gripped in a gauntleted hand, was an intricately carved lance, extending out the same measure as a short sword. Beyond those two things, the only changed that could be seen was the suddenly steely resolve in the boy's eyes as he quietly studied the object in his hand and the gauntlets on his fists before nodding once in quiet understanding.
Lucius:
He was surprised to find the sun shining over head as he quietly stood on white stone ramparts. A slight frown marred his face as he looked out, watching the coiling dirt road that wound itself through a sea of grass and wild flowers. Black gloved fingers slipped down then, touching the smooth, warm stone studying it even as he noted absently how stark the darkness of his robes stood in contrast with the stone.
Snorting softly, he turned his head, about to move on when he caught sight of a small child, sitting atop the ramparts, legs dangling haphazardly over the edge as the young boy stared out at the vastness in front of him. A cold, clinical part of him, noted the pale blonde hair and silvery eyes of a Malfoy, and yet, the features were softer, not as sharp, or refined as his or his son's. More open as he sat in a simple smock and breeches.
You can't see it, can you.
The sudden soft voice rippling through his mind startled Lucius, his eyes widening slightly as he suddenly studied the boy a bit more intently. "So, you would be what I'm here, looking for."
No, I suppose you can't.
A slight spike of irritation rippled across Lucius' face as he narrowed his eyes at the boy. "See what, exactly."
The simple beauty of things.
"Empty planes filled with nothing but weeds and dropping daisies." Lucius shot back as he glared mildly at the boy in front of him. "Hardly anything of note."
That's not what you thought once.
A vague recollection rose up through his mind, bringing a slight frown to Lucius' lips as he stared back at the boy who had yet to look back at him. "A child's thoughts, hardly befitting those of a man."
The boy turned his head then, glancing at the man for a moment, before slowly shaking his head in a slow, sad motion before looking back out across the plains.
And this, instead is?
Suddenly, the air was thick with the stench of burning flesh and spilt blood as Lucius brought his hand to his mouth, stifling back the reflexive urge to gag at the sudden assault on his senses. All around them, bodies lay, dismembered, destroyed, burned, stabbed, tore apart. The calm serenity of the day sky had faded into a cloudy, moonless night as fires raged across the planes. Everywhere he looked, he could see the glazed unseeing eyes of the dead staring back at him, almost accusingly as he whirled around.
What's the matter? This is what you wanted, isn't it? To slaughter, to kill, to destroy? To watch your enemies die, driven and destroyed before you?
"What… is this?" Lucius could feel the sudden queasy turn in his stomach, the shuddering drop as he fought back the urge to empty the contents of his stomach onto one of those nearby corpses.
This? You should recognize it. This is war, this is what you've worked to bring to the Wizarding World. This is death and destruction. People slaughtered as nothing more than beasts before the butchers. This is what your 'great' Dark Lord wants.
Never once opening his mouth the boy lifted his hand, and pointed down towards the once empty dirt road lay, directly at a small mountain of corpses that now covered it, and to the pale semblance of a man laughing triumphantly atop it.
That is his desire. To kill, to torture, to destroy. That is all he knows now. That is all he wants. He does not wish to rule, he does not wish to lead, he does not wish to bring about your dreams. He wants power, power to indulge in every little dark whim or fancy, with no one there to stand against him or stop him.
Lucius flinched back as he felt the quiet accusation in those words striking deep from those clear, silver eyes, before he turned his head away, shame thick in his heart. "I know."
Yet, you do nothing. No, worse than that, you stand beside him, kneel to him, serve him. Help him on his journey.
"Better to stand behind him, than be one of those cut down before him." Lucius shot back as his own silver eyes flashed for a moment before falling still. "Better to have my family where he won't choose to attack."
Where he won't attack yet. You already know that he is close to bringing punishment for your failures onto them. If your son hadn't brought that book…
"I know… I KNOW!" Lucius could feel that dark pit dropping even further into his stomach as he turned his head, staring into the distance, again catching sight of the image of the madman he followed standing atop his corpse mountain. "What do you want of me? To say that you're right? I know you are! That everything I've done has brought me step by step closer to ruin?"
All your life, you've chased after power. To hold it over others, to feel better than them, does your son even know why you hate? Does he even understand the truth of it?
"Of course, tell my son, my proudly pureblood son, that he is the son of a half blood?" Lucius barked off a short bitter laugh before shaking his head. "That the man who raised me as my father, cold and hard hearted as he was, couldn't plant his seed? That I surpassed both his and my mother's power, when I was a boy his own age?"
Lucius closed his eyes and growled out as he clenched his fingers above the stone. "To tell him, that everything I taught him, everything I've represented, has been nothing but an extravagant, all encompassing lie?!"
It would help. Narcissa still loves you as you are.
"But Bellatrix wouldn't." Lucius paused, before he snorted softly shaking his head as he gripped his fingers back, tightly into his palms. "No matter how her precious lord is even less of a pureblood than I am. At least my blood father was a wizard."
True, and yet, he is the one with the power. Interesting, isn't it?
"Not the word I'd choose." His lips turned down sourly he turned his head, as suddenly the ramparts and the fields were back, clean and once more almost shining against the gentle light of the sun. As he stared out at the wild swaying expanse of life, he spoke, his hands resting down on cool white stone. "You're right, it is beautiful."
All it takes, is the right perspective. So, what're you going to do?
"Whatever is best for my family. Glory, power… vengeance…" The man slumped softly as he stared down at the stone beneath his hands. "Those are meaningless without them." Turning his head, he looked at the silent boy staring back at him with those quiet eyes. "Please… Help me protect them."
Of course. But, remember, Lucius. The best ways to protect someone are never the easy ones. Now… Say my name.
-o-o-o-
"Hold your head high and stand proud, Auguste." Simple, soft words slipped past his lips, as Lucius could feel his magic enveloping him, rising like a way through his limbs before exploding grey robes, trimmed with silver and green fell across his frame, with a hood drawn over his head, casting his features into shadow.
Hermione:
Oh, this simply will NOT do, not at all!
Hermione blinked as she could hear the sensual, purring voice immediately echoing through her mind the instant she became aware of her new surroundings. "Huh, wha…?"
Veils of transparent, crimson silks and woven gold hung against gleaming marble pillars as distant sounds of faint giggles played against the quiet murmur of flowing water. Before her, a smiling woman, dressed in diaphanous purple silks was rising off a crimson divan, stretching back luxuriously with a display of her ample, sensual curves. Then, she was almost stalking over towards her, the quiet click of heels reported off the polished stone beneath her feet, before suddenly, Hermione found herself staring up into a pair of molten amber eyes.
Really child, must you be so serious? So wound up, tightly clamping down on everything, my, I can't imagine how much longer it will be until you just… mmm Explode.
"Wha, who… WHY ARE YOU DRESSED LIKE THAT!?" Almost pressed into a most impressive set of cleavage, Hermione's mind finally caught up with exactly what it was she was seeing, even as she tried to practically throw the woman away from her.
Oof, rude little girl, aren't you? You're the one that came to ME remember?
There was a note of amusement in the tinge of annoyance the voice conveyed back as the chestnut haired woman fell backwards, and landed rather solidly on her bottom.
And I dress how I please. Not everyone is a stick in the mud little prude like you stick to.
Standing up, she lightly made to dust herself off, Hermione blushed furiously as she averted her eyes, refusing to look at the woman in front of her. "It's indecent!"
That depends entirely on your definition of decent. I'm fairly certain none of those boys you like to hang out with would complain about it.
The way the woman grinned down right lecherously back at her had Hermione quickly squeaking in outrage before she rapidly shook her head, her body flushing even further. "WHAT!? How… Ooooh, you… you… you SLUT!"
Hedonist, thank you very much. And those boys are quite tasty… though, not as much as those red head's brothers… mmm… Twins...!
As thoughts of Fred and George came unbidden to the girl's mind, she unconsciously crossed her legs thoughts drifting to some of the more private moments she'd allowed herself to indulge. "You… you pervert!"
And? Really, Hermione, darling, I am just an aspect of you after all. Anything you call me, is saying that about yourself.
With a smirk curled back on soft, full lips, the woman swayed her way to the blushing girl's side, and slipped an arm about her shoulders, pulling her close as she felt the brush of oh so soft fingertips caressing her cheek. Then, the woman had a glass, more a goblet than anything, filled with a burgundy hued liquid.
Here, have a little wine m'dear. You look like you could use it.
"And how exactly do I look like I could use it?" The words dripped frigidly off Hermione's lips as she crossed her arms about her chest, trying to shrug off the woman's arm as tension rippled through her body.
For one, you're far, far too tense. Relax and enjoy yourself!
"And for another?" The tension only built higher inside the girl as she pulled away from the woman, staring back angrily at those molten amber eyes.
For another, you most definitely need a good and thorough shagging.
Hermione immediately felt her jaw slacken as she stared back at the amused looking woman who casually took a sip from the cup in her hand, before canting her head lightly to the side, allowing the rich curls of her hair to fall lightly against her cheek.
You're entirely too stuck on the idea of what's right and proper. Always following the rule set down in front of you so blindly… Demanding everything be structured and ordered. Ugh, it's positively unseemly how much fun you seem so determined to drain out of life.
The girl could hear an almost melodramatic sigh echoing through her mind as the woman brought her free hand up to her forehead, swooning slightly backwards.
Alas, the bitter torments of being stuck a part of a girl so intent on being nothing but a prude.
"… Joy, I'm stuck with an oversexed, hedonistic, drunken drama queen for my magic." Hermione shot back curtly as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Lovely. I should have listened to Harry."
Well, he does have first hand experience… And Ceridwen… Mmm… such a wickedly delightful thing she is. The things she could do with me… oh yes.
"And of course, she's a lesbian too." Hermione growled softly as she shook her head.
No more than you. I appreciate the delights of both forms my dear, they all have their pleasures. Now if you want a fine example of what a man should be like, Cid is… oooh, words simply don't do the man justice.
Hermione groaned as she heard the throaty purr that echoed through her mind, before shaking her head. "I don't even want to know. Is there ANYTHING useful you can tell me?"
Neither Ceridwen nor Cid like you very much.
The girl stared as the woman pouted softly as her voice rang though her mind before she took another slow sip of her drink.
They blame you as much as they blame their wielders for how screwed up their boys are. But, mainly you.
"… I know who Ceridwen is, but who's Cid, and how can they blame me for that!? I've tried my hardest to help them! If it wasn't for me they'd never get any homework done, never study, they'd…!"
Because you're so intent on sucking the fun and enjoyment out of what they do. If you don't love something, thrive on it, embrace it, you'll never go beyond the basics, and you, my dear, have almost single handedly helped destroy most of the wonder and enjoyment Harry found in magic.
"That's not true!" Hermione immediately protested, glaring angrily back at the woman. "And who's Cid's…?!"
Weasley obviously. Perhaps the boy will get a clue after talking to him. And yes, it is. You made studying and researching things such a chore, that it killed off their interest in anything beyond what was assigned in class. Or, do you think a boy, upon learning both his father and godfather were animagi, would normally not look into learning about how to become one himself?
"It's illegal for someone to…"
Ugh, always with the rules and what you should and shouldn't do. I swear. I hate to think how much of an absolutely uptight prude you would have been if Harry and Ron hadn't forced you along for some of the things they wouldn't let you talk them out of.
"Rules are what make society function! Without rules..." Again, the girl protested, her eyes sparking in a bit of anger as she lightly stomped her foot, still glaring at the woman.
Rules are the way people are controlled. Some beneficial, some not. Just because something is a rule, doesn't mean that you should follow it.
"So what, you think I should just throw the rules out entirely and let people do whatever they want?" Hermione lifted her head, sniffing in disdain as she crossed her arms more tightly about her chest. Only, suddenly the woman in front of her scowled openly down at her as she threw her hands up in the air and began to stalk away.
Do you just not WANT to understand? Are you so happy being a stubborn fool that you can't grasp what Harry and Ron knew their first year? Bah! Who needs a shepard when they have sheep like you!
Hermione flushed brightly in anger as she paused, struggling to come to grips with the emotions the woman had evoked in her, struggling to give words to flood of thoughts that swept through her mind. A mess of confusion that result in a simple stammering of words. "You... you...!"
The woman glared down at her from over her shoulder, sneering softly as she beheld the girl.
What, you expect me to praise you for it? To give you the approval you so wantonly crave? You've HAD that approval from better friends than you deserve. But, all you cared about was finding it from adults, from those of 'authority.' But, that's not the truly frustrating thing. Do you know what is?
With gritted teeth, the girl met the woman's glare with one of her own and ground out, "What...?"
You've been taught, the same lesson, over and over and over again. But, it NEVER sticks! It's only been a few days now since you learned it the last time, but still you refuse to let it stay!
"What's the bloody lesson then?!"
That you can't rely on 'authority' to do the right thing, and you can't blindly follow. You can't just sit back and expect things to work out. Rules don't always help, in fact a lot of the time they need to be broken. And finally, it's just plain more FUN to cut loose and stop worrying all the time. Not to mention, you don't get anywhere new by following the same old directions.
For a moment, Hermione just stared back at the woman as anger melted into confusion. "Wha-huh?"
Popsicle?
Hermione could only stare in dumbed shock as the woman in front of her seemed to giggle slightly while suddenly producing two, blue popsicles, one of which she promptly flicked her tongue slowly up, caressing its tip as she offered the second to Hermione.
They're really quite good. Mmm... What were we talking about again?
Hermione took the popsicle with that dumbstruck expression still written across her face, staring back at the woman in front of her who made quite the spectacle of slowly lavishing her tongue across is glistening length before suckling at its tip.
I do just love to suck on a nice, hard, wet... popsicle.
"Right... Popsicle... uh, yeah..." Hesitantly the girl took a slight lick at the slightly glistening stick of frozen blue liquid before blinking at the definitely citrus taste. "Hm... that's actually pretty good."
I know! I do just LOVE these things! Positively delightful! I got the recipe from those delightful twins!
"... Since when can you communicate with people?" Hermione stared back at the woman, even as she continued to suckle away at the glistening length the blue popsicle, wondering what about it, was so familiar.
Mmm...? Oh no, Hermione, darling!I'm refering to their absolutely WONDERFUL magics! With two twins so alike, of course their magics are twins as well! And believe me... There's a reason people have such a very big twins fantasy!
"..." For a moment, Hermione allowed her mind to wander with the woman's words, conjuring up the simple logistics of such a situation before she immediately blushed brightly. "I did NOT need to know that!"
No, but it's such a wonderful image, isn't it?
Unconsciously, Hermione nodded her head in acknowledgment, never aware of her own motion as she gave another suckle on her popsicle, still struggling to define the flavor. "What's in these?"
Oh, a bit of lemonade, a bit of blue curacao... and just the slightest smidge of vodka!
Eyes widening, Hermione pulled the popsicle out of her mouth and stared at it. "They're alcoholic?!"
Well, duh, it's kind of hard for something to be half blue curacao and NOT be alcoholic!
"Oh..." She was torn for a moment, staring at the delightful popsicle in her hand before whimpering just a bit. "But... but...!"
A little alcohol is not going to kill you, darling. Anyway, you came here to learn my name and see about releasing me, hmmm?
"Well, yes, I did..."
Tell you what, go out, have some fun, party, drink... And I'll give you what you want. Bonus points for if you get a damned thorough shagging.
"... You're telling me that in order for me to have full access to my magic, like Harry, I have to agree to... to..." Hermione couldn't quite bring herself to say it, her eyes bugging out of her head as her face flushed brilliantly. "That's... That's immoral!"
Well, you can always say no, and let Harry deal with all on his own.
"That's blackmail!"
Why, yes, it is, isn't it?
"... Do I have any other choice?" She glowered at the woman, arms crossed once more about her chest, even as she never leg go of her popsicle.
None at all! Isn't it wonderful?
"No, it's not..." Hermione huffed as she shook her head, lightly stamping her foot against the ground. "Fine!"
Delightful! Now, say my name.
-o-o-o-
"Let the wine flow for those that would sup at your teat, Maeve!" Hermione froze, horrified at the words that came out of her mouth as she realized exactly what it was she'd said.
Before she could voice any further protest, she vanished behind the sudden swirling glow of a cocoon, before it shattered an instant later, leaving Ron and Harry visibly staring at her. When she followed their gaze down and caught sight of just what she was wearing, she immediately let out a choked squawk. "MAEVE!!!!"
The melodious giggling through her mind was the only response she got.