A/N: So sorry for the long delay with this chapter... Well, I can go on and on about how I was totally usurped by the Olympics and my studies, but I won't. I just say that it took some time to figure stuff out for this chapter and getting the right tone...
BETA: Kefalion, also known as Frida has been my rock as my beta (I'm having the urge to stand on a table towards her and start screaming: Oh Captain, My Captain!). She gives me suggestions for wording, checks grammar and my helps me rewrite this at least two times... So THANK YOU!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, just my own mind...
And now, enjoy read and review!
Cjb1990
Sotiria looked on closely from a rooftop as a group of 'white robes' came through the main street, towing several bound figures. She stood there, hidden in the shadows, as they dumped them in a heap in the middle of the road. Beside her stood a figure of much shorter stature. Normally, this leprechaun was extraordinarily chipper. Not today though, today his eyes were hard and his mouth a grim line. Her eye fell on a shift in the darkness in the alley to the White Robes' left. She knew the werewolves kept a contingency and were ready to grab them the minute the white robes went out of control.
She herself was readying her magic. She could feel the atmosphere almost crackle with the magic she was calling to her from the air and earth. Her fingertips were bursting with it, almost begging her to unleash it in a blitz fury. But she didn't, she kept her silent watch.
The moment to intervene arrived shortly after. Sotiria saw the White Robes draw their wands. She tensed, coiled to jump down from the roof and attack the bastards. She heard them call out to the kids, taunting them. Once they were sure the scared eyes were upon them, she saw them break the wands. Shocked, she realized that the wands had belonged to the children. They had to watch helplessly as they felt the connection to their wands die. Deep hatred rose in a tidal wave.
"Go," she whispered to the leprechaun. The little man shot out of sight, missing the traditional lantern clutched in his tiny fist. He was to alert the very diverse group of nymphs, Veelas, leprechauns and vampires to be on red alert if things were to go south all of a sudden.
Sotiria could hear the groans of pain the kids uttered and knew it was because of the loss of connection to their wands. She hated them, those White Robes. She hated them with all of her being. Who were they, that they got to decide who had the right to live and who didn't? That was a privilege only for Mother Magic herself. She had created all. How did they dare to judge her creations wanting?
When the first curse was sent towards the kids, she jumped off the roof and landed silently behind the White Robes. Sotiria knew the wolves had seen her jump, and waited for the howling to start. It only took a few seconds, the sound ripping through the oppressing silence. The White Robes stiffened, heads turning in the direction of the ruckus. It was as if they only now realized how deep they had wandered on the road into the Dark Alleys.
Sotiria closed her eyes and centred herself. She felt the deep connections to magic settle in her, just like her father had taught her all those years ago. Unbidden, the image of her father falling under the executioner axe rose behind her closed eyelids. As she forcefully pushed away the memory, her eyes shot open and she released a tidal wave of purely natural magic
"Lato haer Ourdeaul!" She yelled out in the ancient language of her people.
The magic she used, was named Nature Magic by her father. She could still remember the stern and serious expression on his normally cheerful face as he explained to her about this magic.
"It's all about magic, my child," father had started his teachings. "Nature is balance, needs that balance. Everything that is part of nature, including is, has to adhere to that balance. For every magical human, there must be the counter, the non-magical human or as they call them; muggles.
Sotiria had scrunched her nose at the derogatory term. As if ordinary humans were worth less because they lacked a gift Mother Magic gave to the magical humans. Just because the path they were to wander was different, didn't mean it was a lesser path. It was the path needed to age the soul.
"Alike the balances between magical and non-magical, there can be found balance in species. For every High Elf, a Dark Elf is necessary for the continuation of a well-balanced and peaceful existence of the Elves.
Wizards fail to realize this, thus they extrapolate Dark and Light. They stand opposite one another, instead of working side by side to keep that balance necessary in life." Her father's eyes shifted to a darker shade, one she recognized as the look he got when he foresaw something.
"To make sure that the paths continue on their intended course magic can be called upon to redirect them. This is Nature Magic. You can use this magic to guide your choices, to bring attention to imbalances and to nudge morale. But the most explosive of manners to use Nature Magic is to judge. Not everyone can call upon the magic to judge. We Regals, we can call upon the Judgment through our connection with the earth and the air that surrounds us and the old lines of wizard kind have long ago harnessed this Judgment within their family magic."
Sotiria, still young and not even considered to be of a fruitful age had looked confused. "But father, how does it Judge? And what happens if they aren't what they are supposed to be? If they have strayed from their path?"
Father had chuckled, cradling her face in his large hand. "Magic decides. That is both the beauty and the horror of calling upon it. Mother will decide if they have indeed committed transgression against their higher purpose. She will be judge, jury and executioner. The punishment can be something small, like being forcefully directed back on their designated paths through life, to something so much bigger, losing ones connection to magic or even life," he earnestly continued.
"But father, how can one dissuade from the path? If we can feel her inside us, whispering to us what to do?" Sotiria still didn't understand how those things could happen. You have to be deaf or stupid not to hear magic's warnings.
"Like you did you mean, when you stole all the elvinka pie from the kitchens with your magic yesterday?" Father had replied good-humouredly.
Sotiria had shifted guiltily, she hadn't listened to magic's warnings and the feelings of scolding that act had caused within her.
"It is because no one hears magic like us." Father sat back, looking deep into her eyes like he wanted to impart something even more important than a lesson about magic. "We Regals, we hear the voice of Mother. This is our blessing, and our heavy responsibility. Not only do we lead all of our Elven brethren. We are the guardians of the path. This comes with sacrifice; we hear the pain of Mother Magic so we are naturally inclined to lessen her burdens and pain. This does mean that we'll never hear the call of a mate. Our lives will always be in the servitude of the magical races, and above all in servitude of Mother Magic. Even kings are servants, Sotiria. You'll do well to remember that. Always."
She called upon the most explosive Nature Magic. In all her years of listening to the whispers of Mother, she had never been as certain about the course she needed to follow as this night. She could feel Mother Magic almost begging her to call forth Judgment.
She stood back as the torrid winds of the magic caught the White Robes in their web. She felt a vindictive pleasure rise in her that didn't belong to her. She wasn't getting personal satisfaction out of this. The murder of her father called for a more painful death than Judgment even at its harshest gave its victims. It called for prolonged dying, for the ones responsible to be kept on the edge between life and death, only to bring them back again and again to more pain and suffering. It needed to be vindicated with the pain and sweat and blood of those that tortured her brethren.
The wolves entered the scene, their mouths opened and showing off their elongated teeth. Their howls resonated with vengeance. They didn't attack though, satisfied to watch the outcome of Judgment.
Sotiria didn't spare the wolves or the children a single glance, transfixed as she was on the magic that kept the bastards in her grip. She saw the subtle nudges against their minds and souls, felt the outrage at the findings.
The air suddenly felt like it was splitting open. A white torrent of magic came out of nowhere, engulfing the White Robes in its flood. The men screamed out as the powerful flood of took away all that they were. When the light diminished, there were only the empty shells of the men left. They still breathed, but their eyes were empty. Sotiria felt a grim satisfaction that was her own this time.
Magic had found them wanting, clearly. So she had taken away all that was corrupt in her creations; it just so happened that the corruption was not just of their mind, it was also entrenched deep in their souls. Now they were just as much alive as a Dementor's victim was.
She walked forward, her face serene and her eyes glassy as if she was in a trance. The wolves stepped in front of the children, wary of what this trance encompassed. They knew of Judgment, and knew that Sotiria was of High Decent. She could be taken for Magic's purpose. That purpose could be from a thank you to total destruction.
Sotiria stood still in front of the fallen heaps of white fabric. She lifted both her hands above the men. A shimmering, dark golden line appeared on all their robes. It sneaked its way up, looping over itself until the line became writing.
Matri Magicae Iudicium
Sotiria stumbled a few steps back and shook her head. Her eyes changed back into their sharp blue glare. The glare fell upon the writing on the robes. By Mother Magic's Judgment, well it couldn't be more fitting.
"It's okay, guys. You can shift back," she called out softly to the wolves who were still standing protectively in front of the dumped children.
The four wolves changed back to their human form and Remus Lupin looked down upon the fallen bastards with a shocked face.
"She is on our side," he managed to utter. "She actually agrees the imbalance is towards a point of death."
"Of course she does," Sotiria answered the shocked man. "I've felt her anger climb as the years have passed, but also her indecision. Now though, the time is nigh. This will be her only warning to the wizards in charge. One she knows they will not heed. Shortly, the time of retribution will be here. And she'll rain down her wrath, until balance is at last restored."
The message seemed to bring a new fierceness out in the wolves. Her eyes fell on Greyback, the alpha. Only a few days ago she had seen his shoulders slump in defeat, the ultimate defeated alpha. Now, with this message from Mother it seemed to bring out the strong werewolf from the years before.
"What are you going to do to us?" a shivering voice asked them. Sotiria looked towards the voice and saw dark eyes looking anxiously at them.
"Heal you, clothe you, teach you, guide you," Lupin answered, not unkindly.
"You're not going to eat us?" the boy continued.
Lupin smiled, showing his teeth, which might have been more intimidating than soothing. "Only if you keep on annoying me," he growled.
Sotiria had a hard time keeping her face blank, as a smile threatened to come through. She decided to take matters into her own hands. These children needed explanations and healing, fast.
"Which one of you is Dean Thomas?" she asked the children lying on the cold cobble stones. The dark boy with dread locks made a whimpering noise. She headed over to him and kneeled next to him. With soft and swift hands she assessed his wounds. Her face turned to stone when she inspected his wrists.
"What happened to your wrist, Dean?" For the life of her, she couldn't keep the fury out of her voice. Dean seemed to shrink back in to himself.
"They shackled me, and it burned. It burned and the burning spread." He whimpered faintly.
"Fol Olgorn!" She exclaimed. Without any warning, she lifted him in a fireman's carry over her shoulder. She gave a quick nod to Fenrir and she was off.
She didn't bother with the fallen tyrants. She knew the nymphs would dump them somewhere away from the Alleys for the Ministry to find. She quickly found her way through a small alley maze until she was in front of her small apartment. She gently put Dean down to open the door and within seconds she had him lain out on her bed.
She quickly made her way to a trunk stowed away in the corner. In it she kept her most precious belongings,most of them were part of the inheritance from her father. His books about balance and the journals of those reigning before him were her source of knowledge. Her father had been killed ten years ago, only ten years into his tutelage. To have a complete education as a High Elf, took thirty years.
At age fifty, a High Elf was considered an adult and got responsibilities among their kind. Sotiria never had that chance. She had been put here as supposedly the last of the High Elves, sort of like a trophy to the wizards. She was not the last of her kind, far from it. This was her best-guarded secret. The Elves had hidden away in places only known to their own kind, waiting for the signs to show the time was right. Sotiria was all for joining her kind, were it not for the insistent denial to that decision that kept nagging her. It had taken a while to learn that it was not her own doubts, but the wish of Mother Magic that pulled on her mind. So, she had let herself be taken to the Dark Alleys instead. For what purpose, she didn't know. But she had to believe there was a reason for it. She just hoped it was one of great importance, not of petty small reasoning.
She located the precious, deep red carafe she was searching for. This carafe held the medicine against Elven poisoning. She knew what had happened to Dean. It had been bad, and she didn't know how long he had been shackled in Blackscale Iron. She examined the boy's wrists once more. The smell that drifted up to her nose made her stomach churn. Those thrice cursed bastards! Not just the Iron, oh no, they had to dip them in salt as well.
She took out a clean linen cloth. The pristine white was in stark contrast with the dingy furniture of her house. She quickly grabbed a dagger from the chest and slid the palm of her hand open. She counted out the nine drops of blood over the white cloth before she swiftly bandaged her hand. She dropped the medicine on the blood spots, watching as the colourless liquid mixed with the deep red of her blood. It spread over the whole cloth until it was completely saturated. She ripped the cloth in two and carefully wrapped his wrists in them.
Dean relaxed a bit and let out a groan of relief. He tried to speak up, to thank her or plead with her, she didn't know. She halted him before he could muster up his strength.
"Sleep, we'll talk after you recover your strength," she whispered to him, pushing him flat on her bed. "Sleep young one. I promise, you are safe within these walls."
Whether he truly felt safe, or just couldn't keep awake any longer, Dean Thomas closed his eyes and let himself drift away into Morpheus' arms. Sotiria watched as his breathing deepened and his body let go of the tension in its muscles. She stood up, making sure not to jostle the lost and hurt boy on her bed. She hoped he would have recovered enough by morning. She knew from the files Severus had sent ahead that Dean didn't know anything about his heritage.
She was careful to close the door soundlessly behind her as she made her way to where Fenrir had taken the young werewolves. The files didn't include whether the three were bitten or born. And if she just looked at the state Dean was in, she feared for the new cubs. Werewolves had a lot more weaknesses than Dark Elves. Though the reaction to Blackscale Iron was intense, the metal was also rare. Werewolves were weakened by silver. You could find silver in even the most scarce potions kit.
She cautiously entered the clearing. She had no intention to intervene with the pack, only to offer extra healing if necessary. Her eyes widened at what she saw. Fenrir had transformed back into his wolf and had his jaws wrapped around one of the boys' necks. From the thunderous look on Remus' face, Sotiria could guess what had happened.
It seemed the boys had not exactly accepted their werewolf status. Insulting their new alpha was a fire sure way to have him lose his patience and subdue them hard-handedly. The boy Fenrir was keeping down was shaking with terror. The other boys tried to scatter away from the wolf, but were kept in their place by the looming figure of Remus standing behind them.
"Subdue, bare your neck, boy," Remus instructed the boy with a deep growl. The boy shook his head, out of fear and outright denial of the situation or out of subordination he didn't know. Fenrir clamped his jaws a bit tighter and Sotiria saw a bit of blood appear on the white skin. She decided she needed to intervene before the situation escalated in a blood bath.
She sighed and stepped forth. If only Dean hadn't been a Dark Elf in need of immediate medical attention. She normally always introduced the new children to the harsh lifestyle the Dark Alleys. She was harsh and blunt, but also understanding of the sheltered and prejudiced life they had lived before they were dumped in here.
"Okay, everyone just take a deep breath and take two steps back." She let some of her magic leak into her voice. As the magical beings that they were they heard her bloodline in her magic and followed her order. Everyone except for Fenrir who still stubbornly tried to subdue the young fool through blunt force.
"Fenrir, that's enough!" she snapped as it became obvious he would not move away from the boy. Fenrir growled a warning and practically curled around the boy. Sotiria wanted to punch something out of exasperation.
"Alpha Greyback, heed my order. You will step back from those cubs." She now allowed her full lineage to bleed into her command. She saw Fenrir try and disobey her, but her calling on his alpha status made it almost impossible not to let her take charge of the situation. Reluctantly and ever so slowly he released the boy's neck from his jaws and took a few steps back. He glowered at Sotiria with resentment.
"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, Fenrir. If I hadn't shown up, we had three mutilated cubs to bury because you didn't hold your temper and explained what happened to them." She flipped her hair back with an impatient hand gesture. "The one year I can't be there to explain to your newly arrived cubs what the situation is, you manage to completely fuck it up. You're in desperate need of some social skills."
Fenrir changed back in to his human form. He took a few steps towards her, his impressive stature looming over her.
"You have no business with the pack, Regal," he growled. She shot him an unimpressed look.
"Oh, yes. Because clearly you had the situation completely under control," she mocked the werewolf. She side-stepped him and briskly walked to the three boys.
"Stay back, you monster," one of the two that weren't in Fenrir's jaws tried to valiantly warn her.
"Gaia!" she exclaimed. "There's bravery, and then there is complete stupidity, boy!" she snarled at him. "Wake up, boys! If we're the monsters, what does that make you? You are one of us now, whether we like it or not."
She watched as the boy paled as this new reality slowly sunk in to his mind. "But, I was never bitten by one of you!" he exclaimed. Sotiria sank down on her knees before them, trying to be less intimidating. Though she had to admit that would be unlikely, considering what they saw her do to their escorts.
"There are those that are bitten and thereby changed into werewolves. Then there are creature inheritances," she started to explain. "If you are born to a magical line, there is a pretty good chance that there is a werewolf somewhere in your ancestry. Those genes are passed on every generation. In some the genes stay dormant or latent. In others the genes become active as an individual reach their sixteenth or seventeenth birthday, which is the time when your magical connections are permanently anchored in their paths."
She could see the look of shock on the boy's face. Clearly he did have one or two magical parents. And clearly, they had not seen fit to tell their son about the chances of a magical inheritance. She considered it the height of foolishness. The children of such ignorant people would be completely ambushed by the yearly purification of Hogwarts.
She continued to explain how genes could come to the forefront during am inheritance. She could see that even though the boys didn't want to be werewolves they seemed to cautiously accept that they had received a creature inheritance.
"So what will happen now?" the third boy asked desperately. His light blue eyes were darting between the intimidating group of people from underneath his sandy blond fringe.
"Now? Now we will make sure you have not been wounded by those beasts that took you to the Ministry and then here, if you were we will heal you. Come tomorrow, we will start teaching you about the ways of the werewolves, the laws that govern the Dark Alleys and how to respond when the wizards raid. And that will happen, I can assure you. You'll find your own spot in the pack, and your own circle of friends here in Dark Alleys. You look after those that cannot look after themselves, and in return we watch your backs whenever possible."
Sotiria stood up and dusted off her trousers. "I need to go. Dean is in a healing sleep and I would like to keep an eye on him during the night."
Remus spoke up, concern lacing his voice. "What did those leeches do to him?"
Sotiria growled in fierce anger at the reminder of the treatment the Dark Elf had received. "They shackled him." Remus urged her with his eyes to continue. "The shackles were made out of Blackscale Iron, and dipped into salt."
The boy's eyes widened as they heard the entire pack curse loudly and profusely.
"Is, is that bad?" The third boy asked her timidly. Sotiria's eyes softened at the obvious concern the boy expressed. The boy seemed to feel the need to explain. "Dean was always awesome. He helped me with my Ancient Runes homework, even though I was not in Gryffindor. And he played the coolest pranks."
Sotiria chuckled softly at the tone of admiration the boy had. Clearly, Dean had been part of the popular crowd at Hogwarts. She sighed mentally; it would be extra hard on the boy to adjust to life in the Alleys.
"Dean is a Dark Elf. Now, Elves in general don't have many weaknesses. Sure they can be killed through regular means, but they are fast and strong, which means that it is unlikely to happen. Blackscale Iron however, burns the skin of a Dark Elf. If the iron is dipped in salt, it results in burning through the skin into the bloodstream. It poisons the entire body." Sotiria saw the boy blanch at that. "But I have healed him and right now, he just needs lots of rest. Tomorrow I will cleanse him more thoroughly. Do not worry, young cub, Dean will be just fine."
The boy exhaled in relief. Sotiria saw the other two also slump slightly in relief as well. It seemed the timid, shy boy was not the only one worried about Thomas' fate.
A soft whoosh made her turn around. She recognized Etna, one of the leaders of the nymphs in the Dark Alleys. She knew what this was about. They needed her help dumping the white robes. She nodded curtly at Etna.
"Take it easy, and listen to your alpha boys. He only has your best interest at heart, even though he is a bit grumpy in showing it." Fenrir growled at those words, causing Sotiria to chuckle. "See? Grumpy." And with a wink to the boys, she followed after Etna.
They walked through the dark streets in silence. No words were necessary to convey the urgency of their task. At the heap of white robes, three others were waiting for them. One of the figures handed Sotiria a dark cloak. She quickly donned it and grabbed the heaviest of the bodies. The others copied her movements.
Burdened with their load, they moved slowly. They made their way from shadow to shadow, until they came to the edge of the wards. Sotiria dropped her load uncaringly. She walked forward to the wards ever so slowly and carefully expanded her individual magic. She felt the mental bump when she hit the wards with her magic. Calling upon the earth in which the wards were anchored, she let her magic infuse with that of the wards.
She continued the process, until her magic had almost completely merged with the wards. Ever so slowly she started to create a magicless hole in the middle of her own magic, which created a hole in the wards as well. When the hole was large enough for them, she nodded curtly to the rest. One by one, they passed through the wards, with no one the wiser. When the rest passed through, she let the hole collapse. Making sure her magic remained infused in the wards, she picked up her own load again and walked on quickly. As she walked on she pulled her magic back in to herself, separating it once more from the wards.
This was the reason that the nymphs were chosen for this task. Their magic was rooted in nature, and as the wards were anchored in the earth, their magic was less likely to cause a hostile reaction from the wards and alert the wizards to what they were doing.
With a quick agreeing nod, the nymphs slowly diffused. Sotiria called upon the magic of light, letting it transport her to an alley close to the Ministry building. She waited for a minute and the nymphs appeared as well. They walked even slower, ever keeping to the shadows. It only took them five minutes, even with their snail pace, to reach the visitor's entrance of the Ministry. Sotiria tried to let her awareness drift away form her, but magic nudged her to hurry up.
Without any further surveillance, she took the last distance to the red phone booth with a run. The nymphs followed behind her immediately. Sotiria dumped her guy in the corner of the booth and dialled 6-2-4-4-2. A cool feminine voice breached the silence in which she laboured.
"Ministry of Magic, state your purpose," the voice called.
"Anonymous, delivering a surprise present to the Ministry," Sotiria called out in reply and stepped out of the booth, holding the door open for the nymphs. At her beckoning they dropped their loads in a heap inside the booth. Sotiria closed the door and they watched with grim satisfaction as the phone booth slowly sank through the ground and out of sight.
Not needing any encouragement everyone faded away back to the end of the wards. Once again Sotiria created a hole in the wards and within the minute they all were back in the safety of the Dark Alleys.
Come morning, the Ministry would find their torturers. Come morning, the first stone will be thrown. They would wait, see what their enemy would do to reciprocate. They were ready.
Sotiria slowly walked back to her home. She knew it was time and she lifted her head and gazed at the stars. Sure enough, the red light of Mars was shining bright in the heavens. Very close to it was the blue-white light of Jupiter. War would cause the leaders to be shaken. The time of change was upon them, may Mother Magic help them all.