Welcome back to another chapter of a Bad Moon Rising.
*WARNING THIS IS THE UNEDITED VERSION,THE EDITED ONE IS COMING SOON!*
Let's see how Teacher deals with invaders, shall we?
The Great Hall, 9 am, Thursday.
The atmosphere of the great hall was thick with tension, anticipation, uncertainty, and awe. Scáthach stood tall and proud in the middle of it all, unwilling to bow or bend to those who dared walk into her school and demand such unreasonable things from her. The Minister and Umbridge stood behind a small line of Aurors, smiling as if they had already won, but the aurors? The aurors stood tall and ready for conflict, wands in their hands but uncertainty dancing in their eyes as a few inspected the shifted room with no little amazement, for very few people could pull off magic that changes gravity.
And no one had ever even heard of someone changing Hogwarts on a whim like Scáthach had just done.
"Seize her!" Rufus' order cuts through the atmosphere like a hot knife as he slams his cane into the ground, snapping the aurors out of their daze, and Scáthach smiles as wands snap back up.
"Stupefy!" several aurors cry out as red lights go screaming across the great hall toward Scáthach.
"In Arca Ferrum!" yells Nymphadora as the castle stone beneath Scáthach's feet begins to shoot up and twist itself around her, trying to encase her in an iron coffin.
"Vincula Ferrea!" Another Aurora shuts as conjured chains wrap around Scáthach before drawing tight and securing themselves to the still-forming coffin, drawing tight around her to pin her arms to her chest and her legs together.
"My oh my, what-" Scáthach begins to say before the stunners hit her right before the coffin seals shut before tipping over and falling to the ground with a resounding boom. After a moment, most of the aurors relax as the coffin lying on the ground doesn't move, the only auror that doesn't is the blue-haired one, whose eyes never leave the coffin she created and looks as if she was expecting it to explode.
"Ha!" Fudge lets out a laugh as he steps forward, a large grin on his face. "See! See that! All her big talk about taking Hogwarts from her and this Dún Scaith nonsense was nothing but talk," he says as Umbridge walks behind him, nodding at his words.
"I told you Cornelius, the woman had no skill unless she was fighting like a muggle," Umbridge says with a smirk. "Why I doubt she could even use a wand with what I know about those barbarians in the Circles," she says dismissively.
"If that was the case," someone calls out, and some of the aurors, the minister, and his undersecretary all turn to look at the Gryffindor table hanging off the wall to see a smiling Harry Potter. "Then what happened to the head auror?" he says with a wide smirk as his chin rests on his crossed arms.
Before anyone could turn to see what he was talking about, a slow clap echoed throughout the Great Hall, catching everyone's attention. Scáthach was now standing where Rufus Scrimgeour once stood, her spear leaning against the crook of her neck as she applauded the aurors in the room. "Wonderful teamwork," She says with a grin as she drops her hands, one of them coming to rest on her spear. "And you were able to cut through your fear and apprehension with but two words from your commanding officer, such discipline!" she says before throwing her head back with a laugh as the aurors in the room look between her and the coffin on the floor. Rufus was no longer anywhere to be seen, and most of the aurors began to understand what Scáthach had just done.
"Oh, bollocks," Nymphadora says and sums up the situation quite well for them all.
"Wonderful. Simply marvelous," Scáthach says as she begins to grin at the aurors. "But, now without your commanding officer, how will you fare I wonder?" she asks coyly before raising her hand.
"My turn," the Witch-Queen simply says.
She waves her hand and three arches of blood-red spears form in front of her in rows of thirteen, one for each of the remaining aurors. Most of them froze in shock, wandless magic, while rare, wasn't unheard of. Most students in the African Magic School of Uagadou were taught to harness their magic wandlessly with hand gestures, and most of their rituals were conducted through song and dance. But that was in Africa, where magic was different than what the Western words could do, for magic was different depending on where in the world one was. So, for a witch in England to do wandless conjuration in such a way was thought to be almost impossible; it was, in fact, the highest level of magic achievable in the Western world.
As the invaders of her castle stand in shock at what she has just done, Scáthach simply gestures with her hand and banishes the spears with pinpoint accuracy across the Great Hall at the aurors. Most snap out of their shock to either dodge the spears or turn them away with a spell, two aurors were not nearly fast enough and found out how sharp the fangs of Dún Scaith were. They sliced-through flesh and their magic armor, avoiding anything vital as the spears pin their victims to the floor with matching screams.
"Three down," Scáthach says with a cruel smile before banishing the second set of spears as the aurors who were able to move retaliated against her. The second set crashed into their spells and conjured weapons, destroying them while the two spare spears pinned the two fallen aurors' wand arms down by their robes to keep them from fighting back or getting back up. "Very good on the return volley, but what will you do when…" Scáthach says as she vanishes from sight, her third volley left floating where she was. Only for her to appear in front of another auror who looks at her in shock, unable to get away from the mistress of the school. "I do this," Scáthach says to the auror's face.
Scáthach's fist lashes out, catching the poor mortal in the ribs, the sound of them breaking not lost on the hall. "Poor form, Grant," Scáthach reprimands the auror by his first name before the blow knocks him off his feet. She raises her spear to bat away the incoming spells fired at her as she looks down at the downed man with a frown. "You have fifteen seconds to heal your ribs and stand back up, and this time try and expect your opponent to have a way to close the distance between the two of you," she says before turning back to the other aurors.
She dashes across the Great Hall at mortal speeds, dancing in between spell fire and batting away blades and metal disks. She meets the next auror head-on with a swing of her spear causing the woman to duck before jumping back from the backhand swing before, just like Ginny, there is a sharp pop as the auror quick steps away from Scáthach and across the hall. The auror spins around to level her wand at Scáthach as the Witch-Queen dodges and ducks spell fire before cutting through a pair of giant hedge clippers. The auror gets ready to cast her next spell as one of the spears Scáthach left floating fires from across the room butt first and strikes the female auror across the head dropping her to the floor.
"And that is what happens when you do not pay attention to your surroundings, Jasmine!" Scáthach yells at the fallen woman before turning to the other aurors who were now regrouping. "That's four," she says softly.
Scáthach smiles as she watches the aurors regrouping and forming two lines, other than Grant who was still lying on the floor trying to repair his ribs, and Nymphadora who was trying in vain to vanish her spears. Four by four, the aurors aim and try to overwhelm Scáthach with spellfire as they begin to chain spells together, casting in synchronization with one another. It was because they trusted in one another and their training that they were able to do this; it was an impressive display of magic and teamwork; but in the end meaningless as Scáthach charges them.
Scáthach quickly summons one of her floating spears to her free hand and begins to slash and duck her way through the spells. Nymphadora, who had seen this curse before conjuring a metal shell around the floating spears before leveling her wand to the inside of it.
"Bombarda Maxima!" The Metamorphmagus screams before letting loose the spell and destroying the spears. Scáthach shakes her head as she sees this, it was a waste of time and magic to destroy them. But one of the aurors in the lines thought this was a good idea and started to cast the exploding curse at Scáthach rapidly. As chunks of the stone floor exploded outward and sent careening at the students; Scáthach turned to protect her charges.
The shrapnel from the curses goes flying at the Hufflepuff table, and the students scream in fear. But before the errant pieces of stone hit them, a clang! could be heard and the stone chunks hit a barrier that formed around the table just in time to reflect the debris like they were skipping stones on the surface of a lake. Scáthach's head snaps to the auror responsible for the curses and with great alacrity, dashes towards the target of her ire. Abandoning her conjured spear halfway to him, her now free hand seizes his throat and she slams him into the wall ten feet behind him.
"You are lucky Fúamnach is here, or else you would be dead, you careless man," Scáthach hisses at the auror she held by the throat before letting go and grabbing him by the face. "You. Must. Always. Watch. Out. For. Children!" she all but screams as she bounces the back of the man's head off the stone wall with each word. He slides down the wall as she lets go, lucky he did not get worse from the Witch-Queen as she turns to her next target. "That's five," she says before charging at Grant, she had a promise to keep after all.
Grant had fixed his ribs and was in the process of standing once more, Scáthach raised a wall from the ground to give herself cover from the spell fire as she slid to a stop in front of Grant. "How disappointing, Grant," she says as she looks down at the auror as he looks back in surprise and horror. "If you were my student we would be going back to basics," she says and as the man opens his mouth to speak, Scáthach lashes out with the butt of her spear, striking him across the jaw, knocking him out and breaking his jaw. Scáthach turns back to the stone wall with a frown, "That's six," she says and if her charge in anger did not scatter the other aurors, what comes next would.
She raises her spear to point at the stone wall she raised before banishing a part of it at the aurors, they yelp in surprise and scatter as the large chunk of stone slams into the wall. With a flourish of her spear, the rest of the wall sinks back down and fills in the empty spot left behind. Scáthach turns to look at the minister and Umbridge who had taken to hiding on the other side of her wall before scoffing at the cowards.
"Halt," Scáthach calls out as she turns back to the aurors, who were trying to regroup once more. "This is your plan?" she says before gesturing to the group once more as the aurors look back at her confused for a moment. "To regroup and try your formation once more? Because I will tell you now, it will not work. You are fighting a superior enemy who has the home-field advantage, your options from the start were limited," Scáthach tells them as some of the aurors look at her in confusion. "You could have relied on your number advantage and encircled me, but you didn't. Instead, you let me pick off six of your numbers in under a minute and none of you have made a single move to rescue and heal them while a few of you distracted me," she says with a shake of her head.
"The only other option was to flee, but I've rendered that all but impossible," Scáthach says with a sigh, she tilts her head back in thought before, without looking, lashes out with her spear to knock aside Nymphadora's own spear she had banished at Scáthach heart. "But as I said, I am a far superior opponent, which is not truly a fair comparison of your skills," she says before looking back at the aurors who did not like a harsh truth thrown in their faces. "So, how about we even the field a bit?" she asks as she raises her spear and taps the butt of it on the stone floor of the Great Hall. The shadows that had grown thick over the Hall began to gather and take shape and solid forms, the aurors watched in amazement as suits of armor, like knights of old began to crawl from the darkness.
Modeled after the very suits that line the halls of Hogwarts, the empty suits of armor stand tall in front of the mistress of the school as iron thorns crawl through their limbs like ivy. "There, this would be an adequate challenge for you all," Scáthach says with a soft smile as the eight knights each draw their blades and lock their shields before stepping forward. "Let's see how you handled warriors of old, shall we?" she says as the armors charge the remaining aurors.
Nymphadora leaps forward as the knight's charge, arms wide open at her side before she swings them forward, bringing them up and into herself. The stone floor in front of her shifts and twists into matching forms of Scáthachs knights as her wand waves and flicks, animating each of them before a final transfiguration turns Nymphdora's knights from stone to steel. But the young auror wasn't done yet as she raised her wand and started to slash down to her right, confusing Scáthach for a moment before there was another snap of quick-stepping. Scáthach instinctively brings up her spear to her left and blocks the cleaving curse sent at her as Nymphadora reappears at Scáthach's side.
Scáthach turns to the youngest auror with a grin. "Going right for the kill, excellent! But what will you do now-" she says as she turns on her heel and lashes out with a punch to Nymphadora's face. But she is surprised once more as she strikes the Metamorphmagus only for, in a burst of bright pink and gold, A helmet to phase into existence to take the Warrior Maid's blow. Scáthach eyes widen as she watches Nymphdora's eyes shift from brown to a burning pink, and her blow doing nothing to the girl.
Nymphadora capitalizes on Scáthach's surprise by causing stone badgers to burst from the stonework and sink claws and fangs into her calves. Scáthach swings her spear, trying to catch Nymphadora in the ribs but the young auror doesn't even try to block and the strike finds its target. But once again is stopped, centimeters from Nymphadora's ribs, by a Greek breastplate bursting into existence to protect from the hit. Nymphadora cocks her own arm back and swings at Scáthach's sternum, and being pinned in place by the badgers (and wanting to keep the fight fair for now,) Scáthach takes the blow. But as soon as Nymphdoras lands, Scáthach feels as if she was struck with far greater force as she is lifted off her feet and sent flying backward.
Not one for wasting an opening when she had one, Nymphdoras wand lashes out, sending spiked chains at Scáthach and wrapping her downed teammates in another set. The pink and gold aura now gone from her, Tonks reels her wand back, dragging her squad mates, spear and all, behind her before as quickly as she could turned and cast a cushioning charm behind her at the wall so they could land safely right next to the minister and Umbridge who had rushed away from the battle.
"If you're not gonna fight then help the bloody wounded!" Nymphadora yells at the minister as the man yelps at her screams. "Gather them up and heal-" was as far as Nymphadora got before she felt something impact her once more, the pink and gold aura flaring to life once more, taking the form of armor once worn by the greatest army ancient Greece had ever known. She turns to see Scáthach's grinning face and her spear a hair away from striking her head, Nymphadora growls before lifting her wand and conjuring spears and bladed disks of bronze before trying to slam them into the Witch-Queen.
Scáthach laughs as she dodges out of the way of Nymphadora's attack as if she is dancing before lashing out with her spear once more. She swings three times in less than three seconds, and each time the aura blocks each strike before they can fully land on the Metamorphmagus. With each blow, more and more of the aura is refined into a pink and gold facsimile of Spartan armor that defends the young auror until it finishes and Scáthach is forced to dodge out of the way of several conjured swords and another cleaving curse.
Nymphadora stands in the middle of the Great Hall, looking to all the world to be dressed in the armor of Sparta, shield and all, that burned with a pink and gold haze as she glares at Scáthach. "You have a blessing," the Witch-Queen says as she tilts her head to the side and examines the auror before her. "And a powerful one at that, correct me if I'm wrong but it seems to convert kinetic energy into a static magical energy around you, forming the armor and shield from your own magic. Thanks to the fact you were born as a Metamorphmagus, you were also born with a denser-than-normal magical core so you're able to filter more kinetic energy than anyone else and have it tethered to your core," Scáthach says over the sound of the battle of steel, iron, and spells that the other aurors were engaged in.
Nymphadora says nothing as she redoubles her grip on her wand and Scáthach brings a finger to her chin, tapping it twice before she continues. "It also has the ability to apply whatever kinetic energy it absorbed to a physical blow, thus forming your spear, but by doing so it spends whatever protective armor it had accumulated," she says with a tilt of her head as she drops her arm and her eyes narrow at Nymphadora. "But what if it's not kinetic energy?" she asks before slashing her spear at Nymphadora and sending a divine recreation of the cleaving curse at the girl.
Nymphadora quickly raises her shield at an angle and the curse glances off, causing a small cape to spring from her back glowing with the same pink and gold light.
"Hmm, interesting," Scáthach says as her eyes narrow at Nymphadora before she slides into a starting stance that has her spear leveled at the girl's chest. "Let's see what else it can stop, shall we?" she asks before Nymphadora silently raises her shield. Scáthach dashes forward at the speed of her student as Nymphadora begins to conjure a wall of shields in front of her, the Witch-Queen doesn't know what the shields are for, so she ignores them for now. She drops low, sliding underneath the still-forming defense before getting back to her feet and charging once more as Nymphadora turns to her. The auror flicks her wand and sends one of the fully-formed shields at the goddess but misses as the Witch-Queen vanishes in a flash of shadow, only to appear behind Nymphadora.
The young auror tries to turn once again to face Scáthach but isn't fast enough as the Witch-Queen drops low and sweeps the auror's legs out from under her, knocking Nymphadora onto her back. Nymphadora sends a banishing charm at Scáthach, flinging her backward, and watches as the Witch-Queen lands gracefully on her feet.
"Well, that is interesting," Scáthach says as she stands, watching as Nymphadora scrambles to her feet. "You didn't even feel it when you hit the floor, did you?" she asks the young auror, but all Nymphadora does is smirk at her. "I doubt fire would work, but I could suffocate you somehow I bet, with water, or between my thighs even," Scáthach speculates as she spins her lance and the sound of battle behind her begins to draw to a close. She ignores the shout of "It should be me!" from Delphini and the muttering of George Cash and wishing it was him, though it does bring a smirk to her face.
'Well, I suppose there is only one test left to try," Scáthach says dismissively before sliding back into stance with her smirk never leaving her face, she was enjoying this far too much.
"Before you do that," Nymphadora says before cracking her own smile at Scáthach. "Want to see something cool?" she asks and Scáthach pauses, blinks, and smiles even larger before standing straight once more.
"By all means," the Witch-Queen says before offering the first move to Nymphadora with a wave of her hand.
Nymphadora raises her wand above her head before her face becomes strained and focused. "When you said that the armor was tethered to my core, you were wrong," she tells Scáthach as sweat begins to form on her forehead. "It's not tethered at all, but it's still my magic," Nymphadora announces as Scáthach raises her brow, a look of confusion passing across her face until she watches the pink and gold aura that surrounded the young auror begin to break down and travel up the length of her arm to her wand till the armor had all but vanished.
Scáthach's eyes narrow as she watches the aura begin to pump into whatever spell Nymphadora was preparing. The space an inch or so above her wand begins to distort, bending light and space inward as she begins to charge her spell. "It's basically a secondary core that I can use as long as the armor has power, and oh boy did you give me plenty of that," Nymphadora says with a smile as Scáthach's eyes widened at the sight before her.
"Entropic Battle Magic!" Scáthach thinks to herself in surprise as the distortion above Nymphadora's wand begins to grow and expand to the size and shape of a great sword. Bending light and space around it so much that it turned as black as the cosmos.
"And thank the gods for that, because if it wasn't for that bitch's blessing, I wouldn't be able to do this!" Nymphadora roars before the snap of a quick step can be heard as she appears right in front of Scáthach with a pained look on her face, she lets out a war cry that shakes the hall as she swings her spell downward.
Divine spear meets the Gladius Damocles spell in a mighty clash, the space around the spell bent and buckled under the spell's great weight. The divine spear bends as Scáthach blocks the spell, but just blocking the spell doesn't spot its effects, Scáthach feels her muscles tear, her bones reduce to powder, and her arteries pop like balloons. Nymphadora keeps pushing her spell down, trying her damnest to kill the Witch-Queen, or at least hurt her enough to get her squad the fuck out of the castle.
As Scáthach feels the weight coming down, aiming to crush one-half of her under the immense weight, she comes to two conclusions. One, she could not deflect the attack, doing so would rupture the magic of the Great Hall and cause it to come crumbling down and endangering the students. Two, Nymphadora Tonks would have been an excellent student under her, and possibly still could be. Scáthach closes her eyes for a moment and calls upon something she so rarely uses for the simple fact that she hates it. She had spent years of her mortal life perfecting herself into the perfect warrior with Aoife, and calling upon this power felt like she was spitting in the face of all those years. It sat in the back of her mind as a constant reminder of what she had lost, what she had so willingly given up just to kill Tethra all those years ago, and of that thing that gave her the power to do so.
And as Scáthach opens Fathomless Black Eyes, Nymphadora's spell suddenly ends. No flash or fanfare, no counterspell muttered nor sparks or flash of light, the spell was working one second and the next it wasn't, for Scáthach had swiftly ended it.
Nymphadora's eyes widen in shock as her spell ends without her meaning it to, she finishes the slash but has no more effect than swinging her arm. Before the auror could even process what had happened, Scáthach lashes out with a snap kick that catches Nymphadora in the side causing the pink and gold armor of the Areia to appear in its completion once more. Nymphadora's body bends at the blow as it felt like she had just been hit by a bludger at full speed, she feels the blessing flair back to life in a vain attempt to protect her before she also feels some crack and gives in to Scáthach's kick.
Scáthach kicks Nymphadora across the hall and into the nearest wall, the auror hits the wall, and the armor around her shatters upon impact before she falls to the ground in a heap.
"An impressive performance, Nymphadora!" Scáthach says, a bloody grin stretching across her face as shadows gather across her shoulder, neck, and her lower jaw; healing the damage wrought upon her by Nymphadora's spell. "But it seems your blessing has a weakness, after all, a blow that supersedes the amount of magic that you can filter through your core causes it to fail. I would also hazard a guess that a multitude of attacks all at once can have the same effect," Scáthach says as she sauntered over to the downed auror, her eyes shifting back to her normal look as the shadows covering her wounds melted away to reveal unblemished skin as the Witch-Queen fully healed.
She stops, looking down at Nymphadora with a soft smile. "That kick would have knocked the Greaca out for at least a day, thick skull and all," she tells Nymphadora while ignoring her student's indignant "Oi!" coming from behind her. "Be proud, Nymphadora. You are strong," Scáthach says gently as she smiles down at the struggling girl trying to stand once more.
"Don't call me Nympha-" She tries to say before the butt of Scáthach's spear strikes her across the head before she falls unconscious.
"Hm," Scáthach makes a sound as if she had confirmed something. "It seems to also have a recovery time as well, how interesting," she says before turning back to the small melee that was finally over. Out of the seven aurors she had sent the shades to attack, only three were left standing. Shelly Savage, William Proudfoot, and Kingsley Shacklebolt had all formed a protective front in front of the Minister and the toad as their comrades lay on the ground, some groaning in pain while others lay unconscious.
"You've done well, aurors," Scáthach says as she spins her lance and smiles as she begins to walk toward them. "Your teamwork and formations were perfect and against any other foe, they would have worked. But sadly for you all, I am no ordinary foe," she tells them as they pant, trying to find their second wind with grim looks on their faces.
"But when it came to single combat, this is where you failed. With the exception of Miss Tonks, you all relied on superior numbers to carry you through this fight, and while this would work on anyone else, it would not have worked on a foe using hit-and-run tactics along with urban guerrilla warfare. Something I will have to address in my seventh-year classes from now on," Scáthach informs the remaining aurors with a spin of her lance.
"But do not blame yourselves, it is your training and lack of, that that is at fault. You've not kept up with what was once taught to you, you have slipped and grown rusty in combat with no true enemies to battle against," she tells them with a soft smile before gesturing to them with her spear. "You have forgotten that training never ends, that you should never stop learning, and that true tests never end. But do not fret, for the doors of Dún Scaith are always open to those who wish to learn, no matter their age," she tells them, profound pride in her voice as she spoke of her school.
"For now, this has grown old, so prepare yourselves for the final contest," Scáthach says as she slides once more into her ready stance with a serene smile upon her lips.
"Stop her! Stop her!" the minister yells, trying to shove Kingsley forward to do just that. But the dark-skinned auror doesn't budge and steels himself for the inevitable charge to come.
"We can't," Kingsley admits, his face drawn tight into a grim frown, to the minister as Scáthach smiles.
"Now, defend yourselves!" Scáthach says before charging the remaining aurors, at the speed of her student she batters away the last desperate spells, laughing all the while. Soon enough, she was on them like a storm and force of nature, Scáthach takes out Savage first. Breaking the wrist that holds her wand before pirouetting to her side and using her as a shield to block the last few curses as they bounce off of the auror robes. Scáthach sends Savage sailing into Proudfoot with a kick to her back before using Kingsley as a pole, wrapping her arms around his neck and swinging herself to have her heel collide with Proudfoot's chin and knocking him out.
As the Witch-Queen lands, she feels something jabbing her in the ribs, she looks down in time to see Kingsley's wand planted in her ribs. She looks up just in time to see the man's face set in grim acceptance, the following Blasting Curse takes them both off their feet and flings them both across the hall.
"Yes!" Fudge cheers at the sight of the carnage that was Scáthach's chest cavity exploding outward as she fell away. He quickly walks over to the fallen Kingsley, who is struggling to get back to his feet surviving only thanks to the auror robes wrapped around him. "I will see you promoted for this Kingsley! Head of the Auror office! Hell, even the department!" Fudge says as he grabs the man's arm and tries to pull him to his feet.
But Kingsley pushes him away as he stands on shaky legs. "I do not think that will put her down, Minister," he says, bloody teeth showing as he levels his wand at Scáthach's twitching body.
"What are you talking about? She's de-" Fudge begins to say with a relieved smile, but that smile quickly dies as another sound echoes in the Great Hall.
Laughter.
A corpse was laughing.
"Hahahahaha!" the musical voice of Scáthach laughs as her body moves to stand once more. Golden blood leaks from her wounds that shadows hide, but do nothing to silence the sound of popping and cracking bones moving back into place. "A desperate last attack landing a fatal blow against me, my oh my, you Gryffindors are all so assuming," the Witch-Queen says as she stands once more, much to the horror and shock of the remaining ministry members. Scáthach smiles as she looks at Kingsley, "You are the first full mortal to land a killing blow against me in over three thousand years, and that is quite the accomplishment, Kingsley Shacklebolt," she tells the man as he shakes off his shock and stands tall once more. "You have my acknowledgment, Auror Shacklebolt," she tells him, causing Kingsley to pause for a moment before nodding at Scáthach's words.
The Witch-Queen holds out her hand and summons her spear back to her hand. "With respect for your accomplishment, I will not hold back any longer," she tells him as Kingsley settles himself in a dueling stance, knowing he has no hope of winning this fight. It wasn't even a blur to Kingsley's eyes, one second his opponent was standing thirty feet away from him and the next she was right in front of him, fist drawn back to strike him. He didn't even have time to fully register what had happened before Scáthach fist was buried in his guts, lifting him off the ground and sending him flying away and smashing into the wall across the way from Nymphadora.
"Such dedication to duty, never let it be tarnished, Kingsley Shacklebolt," Scáthach tells the fallen auror as he slips into unconsciousness before the Witch-Queen turns to the last of the Ministry members invading her school. "As for you two, time and again I had warned you, and time and again you have not just ignored me but went out of your way to try and wrestle control of my school from me," her anger leaking into her tone as she approached the two cowering mortals as they press their backs against the door to the great hall.
"I believe I told you last night, Dolores, that next you set foot in my school I would see your torment to be unending," Scáthach tells the quivering toad who shakes her head, fear leaking from her like a feast for the coming end. "And you, your arrogance and disrespect was something I had to endure in my very home for far too long," she says as she turns to look at Cornelius with a look of disgust. "But who to punish first, I wonder?" she asks, mostly to herself, her lips curling into a mocking grin.
"Him!" Umbridge screams before shoving Cornelius forward, making the man stumble and fall to his knees before the mistress of Dún Scaith. "He-He was the one who ordered all this! He wanted to take over the school! Not me! Not me!" she screams pointing at the minister as he looks back at her in betrayal and shock before it swiftly twists into anger.
"Only because you kept pushing for it!" Fudge yells, pointing his finger back at her. "You wanted to usurp Dumbledore as Headmistress! You said you want to impose order on the unruly school and remove Harry Potter from it so he would stop spreading lies! It was all your idea!" he yells back at her, pointing his finger.
"Well, if you two can't agree on who is at fault, it looks like I will have to punish you both," Scáthach says as she glares at them both in turn before raising her spear, ignoring both of their pleading and begging.
But then she stops and tilts her head to the side as if she was listening to someone.
Or something.
Scáthach frowns for a moment before rolling her eyes as she lowers her spear. She raises one hand and gives it a wave before the whirling clicks and thunks of the door to the great hall unlocking behind Umbridge. "You're free to go, Dolores," the Witch-Queen says flatly, almost as if she was disappointed in something before she turns to look at the kneeling man in front of her.
Umbridge takes her chance, barging through the door, and runs as fast as she can from the halls of Dún Scaith.
"Please," Fudge says, looking up into the eyes of a merciless goddess. "Please, I-I didn't know…" he says weakly.
"Oh, Cornelius," Scáthach says sadly before reaching down and grabbing the minister by the throat and lifting him off the ground. "Ignorance is no excuse. But I believe it's time we had words about my school," the Witch-Queen says as she slams the minister into the wall, and as Scáthach and Fudge sink into the shadows, the Great Hall begins to shift back to normal. "Come Minister, let me show you the true Dún Scaith," Scáthach tells him as Cornelius' screams are drowned out in shadows.
As the two sink out of sight and the house tables are placed back to where they belonged, there is a lull in the conversation, the students and teachers far too shocked at what they had just seen. From start to finish, it had only taken Scáthach six minutes to completely take apart an entire squad of aurors. As some of the teachers and one of the students get over their shock and rush to help the downed protectors of the realm, one person speaks up at the Gryffindor table.
"What an odd way to have a sexual awakening," the dreamy and ever-unbothered voice of Luna Lovegood says before everyone around her turns to look at her in confusion.
Harry Potter.
After Scáthach's showing in the Great Hall, the History of Magic test was put off for a few hours as another wave of aurors descended upon the school looking for their head of state and gathering up their injured comrades. Even Madam Bones had shown up to lead the search as the students were sent back to their common rooms to talk and discuss about what happened, some had even turned to Harry for answers. Not knowing what to say Harry had just shrugged them off and headed upstairs to catch a nap before lunch, which was immediately invaded by Delphini in which she had quickly locked and warded the door for a quick afternoon shag in the tower.
With Scáthach otherwise busy in what was her realm of Dún Scaith, Harry was sure she couldn't see what was happening and decided to hell with it and went with Delphini's idea of a morning shag.
After they had both hit their peaks, they both snuggled up under cooling charms and curtains drawn closed to take a nap. Harry falls asleep with Delphini wrapped in his arms and a smile on his face.
"Bring it to me," a soft voice whispers into his ear.
A shadow falls over the curled form of a woman in a muggle ball cap and silver jacket.
"You know where it is," the shadow says softly as it walks around the woman, shelves upon shelves of glowing white orbs surrounding them. "Bring it to me and I will spare you,"
"Get f-fuc-" the woman tries to say, but the shadow swiftly cuts her off.
"Crucio!" the shadow says in a harsh voice and the woman screams. "You will bring it to me or-" the shadow tries to speak over the screaming woman, but to its confusion, her screams turn into growls. The spell stops as the rattling of broken chains drowns out all other noise as the woman rises, but she is no longer a woman but a great and hungry beast. Its form twists to face the shadow, its massive paws falling on the shelves and crushing them under its weight, broken chains hang off its form as far too many eyes turn and look at the shadow.
Hunger deep in each one as the beast opens its maw, almost splitting its body in two, and roars.
A giggle, light and coy echo in the shadow's ear. "Come now, Tom. You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?" it says with whispered maliciousness.
"Harry! Harry, wake up, they just called us- Ahhhhh!" Hermione's scream rings in Harry's ear as both he and Delphini shoot up in his bed, each reaching for their wands.
"I told her not to do that!" Ron's voice calls from the door to the boy's dorm as Harry quickly tries to stand.
"No! No! Don't you dare Harry Potter!" Hermione yells before Harry feels her shoving him back onto his bed and swiftly shutting the current. "I do not want to see you in your birthday suit!" Hermione yells and Ron snickers by the door which is quickly followed by Delphini's full belly laughter.
After being handed his glasses by Delphini, Harry was finally able to make out the blur that was Hermione. She had covered her eyes with both of her hands, she was beet red and looked mortified at what she had just seen as she turned around toward the door. "ImsorryImsorryImsorry," Hermione says quickly as she makes a break for the door, following the sound of Ron's laughter.
"Ron! What the hell?" Delphini yells, sounding more amused than angry with the redhead. "I told you to keep everyone away!" she was able to say between her laughter.
"I did!" Ron calls back from the staircase, sounding a bit offended. "But when Hermione has a mind to do something, it's very hard to stop her," he says before pausing for a moment. "Besides this was hilarious," Ron says with a chuckle before the sound of Hermione smacking Ron on the shoulder could be heard with the cries for help from the redhead.
All Harry could do was shake his head before closing the door with magic so Delphini and he could get dressed and head down with the rest of the Gryffindors who had, thankfully, already left. Harry rubbed his eyes on the way down, fighting off the headache behind his eyes, he could feel the Hunt huff in exasperation about something; as to what? Harry had no clue.
Apparently, the remaining heads of houses decided the "incident" that happened with Scáthatch shouldn't stop the OWL's or NEWT's so they elected to continue with the testing. Delphini had kissed him on his cheek and wished him good luck before Harry entered the Great Hall once more for his final exam.
Umbridge, Office of the Undersecretary, London.
She had run away.
Pushing her boss to be devoured by wolves so she could have time to escape from the horrible end she could feel that bitch about to deliver. Hoping and praying she could make it back to the Ministry to control what had happened and how she looked at the end of it, she had to, they had to believe her.
She had run down the front laws as fast as she could.
No one in their right mind would believe a bunch of snot-nose brats or some mad Irish bitch that couldn't use magic! (Not that she needed to, she had taken most of the aurors out without casting a single spell,) If she was the first to tell the Aurora department of what happened, then she could control the story, control how they saw what happened! Then she could rally the rest of the aurors to take the school! To oust the half-breeds and mudbloods from it! If she could spin it right, she could even cast the blame for the Minister's death on the Irish Circles and finally bring them back under heel!
She had run through the iron gates of Hogwarts and into the thick morning mist that left her skin itchy.
As soon as she passed the gate, she spun on her heel and disapparated with a sharp snap before reappearing in her office. She tilts and grabs her desk to study herself, looking around the room to see the small china plates of kittens that meow at her return, pawing and clawing at the front to greet her. She huffs and puffs from all her running, she has to calm down, she wouldn't be able to spin this like she could if she were in a panic. She takes several deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart, and she pulls out one of the lumpy, uncomfortable seats that were for her guests and underlings to use. Not caring about how it tipped back and forth at the moment as she conjured a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her brow.
"Weasley!" she yells, calling for her junior assistant. She needed to do a few crucial tasks before heading down to the auror department, such as setting up an alibi and Weasley would need to be obliviated to make sure she would come out clean. (Yes, yes. I'll have him take the fall, this will work! This has too!) But after a few moments, she heard no footsteps, no "Yes, Madam Umbridge," so she turned to the door that leads into her office and yelled again. "Weasley! I need your assistance, immediately! Get in here!" She calls again and waits once more, but still nothing.
She stands on shaky legs, one hand gripping the back of the chair she sat in. "Percy Weasley! The Headmaster and the Irish Circles have finally made their move, get in here now!" she rages, not wanting to go look for her Junior like some common lacky. She was the Undersecretary for the Minister and she is to be respected! But still no noise, in fact, she couldn't hear any of the normal hustle and bustle of the Ministry past her door. No notes or letters came through the small open window above her door, nor no owls waiting for her return. "Weasley?" she calls out, her voice sounding small and very much alone.
"Oh? Are you finally catching on?" a voice asks, high and mocking in such a way she could practically hear the grin on its face. She screams before turning swiftly around, wand leveled at the intruder with a curse on her tongue, but all she found…was a cat. Her head snaps back and forth with her wand, she has no idea how a filthy cat got into her office but for now, the more concerning thing was the voice that spoke. Her office was guarded against any intrusion while she wasn't in it, she should have been warned, and the aurors should have been here to detain anyone who got in.
"Who's there!?" she yells, on the verge of panic once more. "Show yourself! I am the undersecretary of the minister of magic, it is a crime to break into my office!" she commands and threatens, familiar and comforting actions to her.
The voice chuckles as if it is deeply amused by something. "Oh, we don't know what's more funny, that you think you have any power here or the fact that you think you're where you aren't," the voice says before she turns slowly to the cat sitting on her desk. It was an unremarkable thing, a black coat with a single large white spot on its chest, a blue and silver collar hung around its neck with a name tag in the shape of a paw. "Oh, finally realizing who is talking, are we? How fun," the cat says before it smiles at her. It was a horrifying thing to see on the cat's face and far too human as it stretched and nearly split its face in two.
"W-what?" she says, taking a step back and aiming her wand at the filthy thing on her desk. "How-how are you speaking? Who are you? Did Dumbledore or that-that whore send you?" she demands from the cat.
But all the cat does is chuckle once more. "My, such questions from the fat rat stuck in the maze," it says dismissively as its smile turns sharper. "But I have been quite rude, have I not? So, please little rat," it says to her, its fangs bore as its smile turns sharper. "Allow me to introduce myself," it says as the kittens in the plates begin to hiss and spit, thrash, and bash against the front of the plates as if they were trying to escape.
"I am, to one little girl in Dún Scaith, Mister Kitty-What. A stray she found in the castle and took in as one of her only friends at the time. But before that, I've been called by several different names," the cat says, unbothered by the plates that jump in place by the kittens on it hitting the front. "In the Far East I am known as Nekomata, the dancing cat of fire and necromancy, who raises the spirits of the dead to cause havoc," it says right before a plate falls to the ground and shatters. Sparks and azure fire jump from the remains of the plate, setting a portion of the office aflame as a monstrous twin-tail cat begins to take form.
She screams and turns, grabbing the door handle to her office and wrenching it open to run, but to her horror, it only leads back into her burning office.
"I am known in India as Odontotyrannos, the tyrant of teeth that took Alexander's whole army to slay," it says, announcing its second name as the next plate falls and shatters. The smell of flowing water fills the room as a scaled three-horn cat-like monster pulls itself from the swift currents. "But to the Greeks, I am Lyncus, the king who refused Demeter," the third plate falls and breaks, and from the remains is a human, hunched over with the head of a lynx, his skin twisted and mutated into thick fur and dressed in aged and ruined robes.
She looks on in horror as the cat continues to speak, calling forth horrors of fang and fur.
"To the south of the ancient world, I am the original Nunda, Eater of People," another plate falls and scatters across the floor, calling forth poisonous gas and the progenitor of the great monsters known to kill a hundred wizards in a single night.
"To the kings and queens of the upper and lower kingdoms of the Nile, I am Shezmu, he who dismembers, the lord of blood, and the great slaughterer of the gods," another plate falls, and another figure rises, adored in gold with the head of a lion with a maw dripping with blood.
"In South America, I am remembered as Carbuncle and Tepēyōllōtl, the cat of riches and the bloody jaguar who leaps at the sun," two plates fall and one releases a house cat made of silver with the fur of gold, its mismatching eyes of emerald and rubies smiles with a mouth full of Sapphires. The last however scatters as old bones of a great beast of stone and blood scatter across the floor bringing the stench of death with it.
"But on the isles where you are from, I am known as Cait-Sith, the king of cats and trickster of gods and mortals alike," it says with a dip of his head and a cruel smile to her. "But my most ancient name is one given to me by Lord Oberon himself at the first turn of the mist here, in the lands beyond your own, a creature for him to hunt, a creature that became the beast to release upon you mortals for your sins against the Hunt. That name is Cath Palug," it says as it raises its head a deafening roar can be heard, shaking the rest of the plates off the wall. The ceiling of her office is then torn from the structure by a massive set of claws, revealing not the floor above or the muggle street above that, but the snarling, skinless face of a burning cat skull far too massive to ever fit in the Ministry.
The walls of her office burn away and collapse to show her that she isn't in the ministry at all, but rather a hedge maze of pink and blue tear-shaped leaves and black thrones. A thick mist curls along the ground grasping at her as she falls over, eight cat-like beings looming over with cruelty gleaming in their eyes as they look at her.
"Wh-why?" is the only thing that escapes her lips as she pushes herself back and away from the beings in an unknown place. Fear grips her heart as panic seeps into her mind in the face of these monsters from around the world gathered in a place that never was and a time that will never be.
"Why?" The King of Cats asks before throwing its head back to laugh a mad laugh. "Oh, my foolish little rat, it's because you scarred the Moon, a crime we can not forgive," it says as it steps forward and the other beings begin to prepare for the chase yet to come. "You made her wipe both blood and tears, an act that, in my court, is the highest offense," it says, its face twisting and turning into an ugly picture of rage and bloodlust. "It's because you hurt our HUMAN!" Cait-Sith roars like a lion as its body begins to contort, twist, and shift into the true monstrous form of the King of Cats.
"Ahhhhhh!" she screams and scrambles to her feet, the fear pumping through her too strong to ignore anymore as she begins to run, taking the first turn deeper into the Hedge of the Fae.
"Run! Run all you like!" Cait-Sith yells as its others begin to give chase. "We do love when the prey runs, it gives us such sweet time to play with our kill," it purrs before leaping after Umbridge, as the eight still living lives of Cait-Sith give chase to the fat juicy rat that had entered the maze to never be seen again.
Harry Potter, June 31st, semi-forbidden forest picnic grounds.
The OWLs were finally over and with them ending came two whole weeks of rest and relaxation for the fifth and seventh years. The night that the tests were officially over, Hufflepuff had spread the word that they were holding a party in their common room and every single fifth and seventh-year was invited no matter their house. Needless to say, Harry was dragged to it by the older Weasleys and Delphini to enjoy the night. Thanks to Cedric being the head boy, most of the prefects were in on it and guaranteed safe passage back to everyone's respective common rooms and Professor Sprout had shown up to give a simple word of warning.
"My house knows what I find acceptable and what I don't, I will be in my room with the wards turned off. But do not think for a moment that allows you all free rein to do whatever you please. All I ask is for you all to be safe, practice restraint, and not wake up the younger years,"
This meant she was going to turn a blind eye to whatever they got up to so long as they didn't get too wild, which was respected by the prefects; everyone else decided to have fun. As soon as she left, smuggled bottles of whiskey and ale were produced left and right, along with other illegal substances such as Fae Rose, Muggle Reefer, and a few mood-altering potions. Ron and, surprisingly, Hermione had a few drinks as they laughed and relaxed in the Hufflepuff common room, but both had kept from drinking too much to keep an eye on things. Whatever pact the prefects made with the head boy and girl was also taken as law, as they helped students back to their dorms when they were spent on whatever they consumed during the party.
Even Draco and he had put aside their rivalry for the night to enjoy the celebration. They had caught each other's eyes from opposite ends of the badger's den, eyes narrowed, chins were tilted upwards and then egos were put aside as Draco nodded once. Harry understood perfectly that there would be no conflict between them tonight unless one of them started it, but neither would go looking for it, which was perfectly fine with Harry.
The party lasted well into the early morning hours with dancing, food, drinks, and merriment all around. During the beginning hours of the party, Harry was sure he caught a whiff of a spiced rum that made his eyes water and a flash of dark leather somewhere in the crowd of teenagers. He smiled to himself, for unbeknownst to the Badgers at large, their own founder had come to bless their party.
Harry mostly hung out in a corner of the party, wrapped in a ward that blocked out sound so he wouldn't suffer a migraine and ruin the fun for Hermione, Ron, and Delphini. Theodore, Tracy, and Neville swung by to talk, as well as Susan Bones and her friend Hannah, who started to flirt with Neville, by what Delphini had whispered to him. He saw Ron and Hermione share a dance, and Daphne talking with Theodore's friend, Blaise. He saw Delphini pass on her late condolences about Neville's mom and dad with an unsure face, only for Neville to smile and shake her hand in thanks.
Delphini was a whirlwind at the party, coming and going as she pleased. Talking, joking, and dancing with a few people at the party but always coming back to Harry's corner to hang out with him. She was aware of Harry's problem with the colliding scents and loud noises of crowds, but she was able to pull him out of his warded area for a few dances throughout the night.
It was during the later hours of the party that she returned to Harry, nearly tripping over herself with how drunk she was, her pupils dilated to show she had also partaken in something else as she all but dragged him toward the floor for one last dance for the night. She giggled and laughed as they both spun around, Harry chuckling at her antics, catching her every time she tripped over her own feet. As the music wound down, and Harry helped her stand one more time, she kissed him, long and deep before they pulled each other in close, her head resting on his shoulder as they slowly danced to the final note.
"I love you," she had whispered to him, her words slurring a bit as she spoke. Her words jolted through him like a hit from Scáthach, his heart stuttered as he smiled before resting his head on hers.
"I love you too," He whispered back with a soft smile, meaning each word of what he said.
They left the party soon after that, Harry carrying her up the steps as Ron helped Hermione up the steps as well. They all made it back to Gryffindor Tower before falling asleep, which made for an entertaining morning as Delphini and Hermione woke up hungover. Delphini snuggled up with Harry in his bed, and Hermione snuggled up to Ron in his bed wrapped in a blanket the redhead conjured for her.
The rest of the week passed uneventfully, other than the end-of-year exams for the other years. Harry spent those weeks either training with his teacher or Ginny, who was getting extra credit from Scáthach for it, or at the shrieking shack with Delphini enjoying each other's bodies.
The best news came only a few days after Scáthach had fought the aurors. According to the rumor mill, Scáthach had shown back up at Hogwarts during the History of Magic Exam and tossed Fudge at the feet of Madam Bones. He was pale, sweaty, scared, and looked to have aged twenty years in only a few hours, but whole and alive. It was announced in The Prophet the following day that Cornelius Fudge was stepping down as the Minister of Magic effective immediately. He took no questions, offered no explanations, and took his leave from his office for the last time.
The Prophet was abuzz about what had happened to him and the squad of aurors at Hogwarts with only unconfirmed reports from students to fill in the blanks. Madam Bones had put her foot down and told the paper that it was "under investigation," but Harry doubted that the head of magical law enforcement was going to do anything about it. The other buzz within the black-and-white pages of the Prophet was of who was going to take Fudge's place as Minister, the speculation was all over the place, from Dumbledore, Madam Bones, and even Fúamnach.
But Harry had little doubt about who would be the next Minister of Magic.
Most ignored the article about the missing Undersecretary with everything else going on, but Harry had a cruel smile on his face when he saw it.
On the last day of school, Harry found himself in the forbidden forest, resting in one of the many picnic areas with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, the twins, Neville, Theodore, Tracy, Susan, Luna, and Cait-Sith. Laughing and enjoying the nice weather during the final day at Dún Scaith. He stopped early on and marveled at how large his friend group had become over the year, a smile on his lips as he talked, ate, played games, and laughed with everyone there.
Enjoying himself in ways he never thought he could when he was eleven.
The only reason why Delphini wasn't with them all was because she had run off to send a few letters, asking if she could borrow Hedwig for one. She had been hinting at a surprise all week but refused to say what it was, Harry was honestly a bit worried about Delphini returning to wherever the hell Draco lived with Bellatrix now free. But it didn't seem to bother her whenever he brought it up, only telling him that she had a plan and leaving it at that.
Harry sat on one of the benches eating a pumpkin pastry when Theodore turned to him. "So, what do you plan on doing this summer, Harry?" the mismatched-eyed boy asks as Tracy leans into him and his arm snakes around her shoulder. "No crazy adventures this time I hope," Theodore says with a knowing grin.
Harry chuckles a bit. "No promise there, mate," Harry says with a grin back at Theodore. "But if everything holds up, I'm going to America for a few weeks," he tells him.
"America?" Neville asks, looking up from the conversation he was having with Luna about magical catnip. "Why are you going to America?" he asks.
"The Hunters of Artemis," Harry says with a shrug. "They invited me on a hunt for a few weeks, apparently there have been some wild chimeras causing trouble in South America they've been asked to help with," Harry informs them, he had only found out last week from a letter from his mom. Artemis was putting the whole thing on hold until Harry could get to the ministry in the next week or so for a portkey to them.
"Bloody hell, Harry, Chimeras, really?" Susan says as she turns to look at him, her face halfway between impressed and horrified at what she heard as Neville turns a bit pale at the information.
"Yup," Harry says, popping the P like a piece of bubblegum before cracking a mad smile. "Should be pretty wicked, yeah?" he says, not expecting anyone to answer.
"No, Harry, that is not wicked," Tracy says as she shakes her head and puts her head in her hands. "Do you even know how many you're going to come across?" she asks, not seeing Harry shrug.
"No idea," Harry admits with a grin. "But I do know how many are going to be left after we get done down there," he says confidently.
"This," Susan says, pointing at Harry with her elbow resting on the table. "This right here is why everyone thinks you are a nutter, Harry. And I for one am starting to believe it," she says with a blank face and flat tone of voice.
Hermione looks up from the book on Magical Artifice she was reading to peer at Susan with a flat expression on her face. "Are you just now figuring this out, Susan?" she asks, her voice betraying her face with how amused she sounded. "I've known this since our first year when Harry went charging after the stone," she says, her lips quirking a bit as she tries to hide her smirk as Ron just starts laughing.
"Oi!" Harry says, turning to look at one of his best friends. "I wasn't that bad," he says, sounding offended that Hermione had even suggested as much.
"I don't know, mate," Ron says, looking up from the chess game he was beating Ginny in to look at him with a grin. "You did charge down to the Chamber of Secrets knowing full well that a Basilisk was in there, with no backup and just your wand. In fact, I'm pretty sure you said you were gonna stab it before running off," he says, his teasing grin never leaving his face.
"That's bollocks," Harry says dismissively with a wave of his hand. "I didn't even have my spear back then, how could I stab it?" he points out, only for Ginny to speak up.
"And yet, here we are, Harry. Still alive after you stabbed a basilisk to death," Ginny says as she moves her rook across the board. "And I can confirm that you did in-bloody-deed, stab a basilisk to death with a sword of all things," she says before turning to look at Harry with a coy smile.
"What is this? Take the piss out of Harry hour?" Harry asks, throwing his hands up in his outrage.
"Yes," was the returning answer from everyone around him, followed by laughter from everyone, including Harry. He shakes his head at everyone as Luna, who is sitting beside him, leans over and gives him a side hug that he returns with a smile. Glad to have friends like the ones he had found, it was then that Cait-Sith's head popped up. The black-and-white king of cats had been lazing and lying in the shifting shadows and sunlight under the forest canopy. Enjoying being petted by Luna and seemingly ignoring all the teenagers around him talking and laughing as he enjoyed the ambience around it.
But now it was alert, its green eyes round and searching till it landed on something behind where Harry sat. As it slowly stands, its fur standing on end with it, the king of cats dips his head as Harry feels a cold wind at the nape of his neck. Like the frosty fangs of winter, they dig into his skin, sending goosebumps across it, demanding his attention.
He knew who it was before he even turned to look. For standing in a break in the trees, stripped of anything that could be considered mortal, was The Morrígan.
She stood tall with her hands folded behind her back, her haunting, unearthly beauty on full display as she looked at Harry with a face carved from ice. Harry ignored the gasps of shock coming from around him as he looked into the eyes of the washer in the fens, a sinking feeling entering his guts.
For he already knew why she was here.
"It's time, Harry," is all she says In her musical voice of dying heroes, is all she needs to say. For The Morrígan had come to call upon her champion to fight the battles she could not.
All Harry could do was nod before standing with a grim look on his face.
Scáthach, at the same time.
"What is she doing here?" Scáthach says out loud to her empty classroom as she turns to look in the direction of where she felt The Morrígan step onto her kingdom. The Witch-Queen had been in the middle of grading her exams for all her years besides Fifth and Seventh and had stood to make herself another cuppa when she felt The Morrígan. Scáthach had made it very clear to her that she was to only appear in her or the Headmaster's office, they were the only places that the Witch-Queen would tolerate The Morrígan in.
Scáthach had no idea what had brought the Queen of the Celtic gods to her castle, The Morrígan hadn't shown up after she had dragged that fool, Cornelius, into the Lands of Shadow to have a chat about her school. But considering that the chat was held while Scáthach held the buffoon over the chasms of the Land of Shadows by his ankle as Fáfnir took snaps at the man, she doubted he would tell anyone what had happened.
For who would believe him?
The Morrígan wasn't here for Dumbledore either, the Headmaster was still at Point Nemo handling his International duties. He had only briefly returned a few days after Minerva was hospitalized to check on the school and his old friend before having to leave again. That would only leave…
"She's here for Harry," a voice says from behind Scáthach, her eyes widened at the voice for she had felt nothing and no one in the room with her and still didn't. Scáthach whirls around, calling to her divine armament to come forward to help her defend her domain, but as she turns to face the intruder, she feels something strike her in the chest.
Before piercing her breastbone and wrapping around her heart.
"Ah, ah, ah," The voice says mockingly as Scáthach looks down to see a hand, buried wrist deep into her chest, right over the lightning bolt scar she bore over her heart. "None of that now," the voice says.
Scáthach follows the arm up to the person who had wounded her, she wants to gasp at who she saw but her throat closes around it. She wants to weep at who it is, but the black veins that begin to crawl across her body, up her neck, and across her face numb any reaction that she could have as cold and endless finality spreads through her very soul.
For the first time in millennia, Scáthach looks at the face of her mother. She was as beautiful as the day she died, her long dark red hair braided down her back as she wore the pure white gown with the same colored brat that Scáthach wore. Gold and finery hung from her neck and fingers, the same ones she was buried wearing, her smile was even the same, the faint echo of motherly love on her lips as she took her final breath. But it was her eyes that were wrong, a twisted corruption of the sky-blue eyes her mother had in life.
For now, {Fathomless Black Eyes} looked back at Scáthach.
"Y-you-" Scáthach gasps out in shock.
"Hello Scáthach," the thing wearing her mother's face says with a cruel imitation of her smile. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" she asks, tilting her mother's head. "I do believe the last time we spoke was when you begged me for the power to kill Tethra, wasn't it?" she asks.
"W-Wha-" Scáthach tries to say, but it squeezes her heart and makes Scáthach gasp in pain.
"I'm here to stop you, of course," her mother says, the smile never leaving the face of Scáthach's mother. "If you were to go to confront The Morrígan, you would stop her from sending Harry to where I need him to be," she answers her question even though Scáthach could not speak, as if she had known the question before it was even asked.
Scáthach, with all her formidable might, weakly grasps the arm of her mother in anger and panic to try to pull it from her chest. "N-no, not-not -" Scáthach tries to say, tries to struggle, but it was to no avail. She looks down at the arm, to try and yank it out and sees blood dripping from her, red blood, mortal blood.
"That isn't your choice, Scáthach," her mother says as she squeezes Scáthach's heart once more, dropping the Witch-Queen to her knees. "Nothing will stop me this time, I will claim what is mine, and I will take the one who has scorned my loving embrace kicking and screaming if I must," her mother says with cold finality.
"P-Plea-...Not-Not Harr-Harry, plea-" Scáthach begs, tears in her eyes and fear of feeling the pain of losing one she loved once more.
"Oh, Scáthach," her mother says as she kneels to look Scáthach in the eyes with a soft and cruel smile. "You know better than anyone that begging will get you nowhere with me," she says before pulling her hand from Scáthach's chest and watching the Witch-Queen slump to the floor. "But worry not, Scáthach, I still need you, so you'll live from this. But right now, I need you out of the way so I think a nice long nap is due, don't you?" her mother says with a smile before turning around and walking away from the downed goddess.
Scáthach reaches out, trying one last desperate thing to stop her mother, but the figure soon vanishes as if she was never there at all. As the shadows soon gathered, pulling Scáthach into their dark embrace and back to the land ever teeming with death, her last thought before slipping into sweet slumber was…
"Not again, please. Not again,"
Tick-tock-tick-tock.
The clock is about to strike.
The time is almost here.