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Pat re on. c om(slash)belleveela(delete spaces)
Bellatrix grasped the bones again as her sister wailed. Her heart pounded as she waited for the bond to break, for the fatal blow to strike, for the tether to be severed and her soul ripped from her body. The deadly blow was raised as she read the bones, how could the fates change?
Her sister still wailed in despair, but she cast the bones again, risking their ferocity. They left her hand light as a feather, and she gasped, scanning the symbols, noting the positions and proximity of others.
"What is it?" asked Andromeda, her voice raw but interwoven with a faint thread of hope.
"She's alive... something else... the hand of our lovers and something else is at work here..." Bellatrix grasped the bones again and threw them. She ignored her sister's fearful hiss, who had once again been tempted. But she had to know. No, she needed to know what had happened in that clearing. The bones tumbled, and her eyes roved over their symbols and placements one more time. She sighed with relief, ready to give her sister the good news. Then a wave of sensation passed through their coven bond, as their souls suddenly sang with joy.
"Oh goddess, he has come!" cried Andromeda, dropping to her knees, arms raised in praise to the moon.
"In our hour of need, great goddess," sobbed Bellatrix, "you have rewarded us with our lord. Fate is good!" Fate was kind to the sisters' coven, but chance, that cruel bastard, exacted its toll for those extra rolls of the bones at that very moment. "Quickly," said Andromeda, rising to her feet, "we must prepare for his arrival. Bellatrix, stop wailing, fetch the good crystal. Does Narcissa need healing? Bellatrix!"
The raven-haired beauty shook herself and sprang to her feet. Her mind cleared in an instant as she realized the danger still surrounding her sister and the young man. She dashed to the medicine cabinet, rummaging through the shelves for the proper antidote and a strong enough potion.
"Bring them here, Andromeda, and boil some water, we need clean linens!" shouted Bellatrix as she rushed to gather them. Even as she grabbed an armful of cloths, she froze, everything falling from her hands, her body rigid with shock. She felt their outer ward breached by a creature so ancient the very earth trembled under its steps. It thrust into their stronghold, slicing through powerful ritual magic like water, then simply exited, moving towards their sister's location.
"Dear goddess," Andromeda whispered, suddenly crouched beside her sister as if she had just appeared there, "what have you wrought this night? Sister, if this... creature decides to rival us, can we hope to match it?"
"With the entire coven?" said Bellatrix, her brilliant mind dancing through possibilities. "With all our strength, we might, barely, escape with our lives... perhaps."
They stood there, trembling against each other. Neither woman realized that a solitary mist had crept into the cottage's basement and huddled in a dark corner, nearly invisible.
LOGAN stumbled on weary legs. His feet tripped over roots and dips in the forest floor, the weight of the woman dragging him down. His mind worked at full speed, replaying the last few minutes over and over.
He should be in shock, but instead, he analyzed the entire scenario, from the cries to where he found the woman and the monster. He remembered the brief fight with crystal clarity, every step and shift of weight. How his grip on the sword affected his movement and how much damage he was able to inflict. He remembered the tough, unnatural hide splitting under his cuts. The stench of its entrails, which still clung to him from head to toe.
As he walked, the dense fog thickened around him. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the haze that began to cloud his mind. He was familiar with the effects of drugs, and this was definitely a mind-altering substance. With strong willpower, he rarely needed them. He forced himself to stay grounded in reality.
He realized he was exhausted and wasn't sure how long he'd been trudging through the forest. The sword, now tied to his waist with a thin silver chain, banged against his legs. His pants were scratched and torn, and his boots even had a split sole.
"When did that happen?" he thought to himself.
He laid the woman on the ground and checked her wounds. Blood oozed from her side, forcing him to tear her white dress to see how severe they were. The fabric was soft yet surprisingly strong; using the sword, he managed to cut a wide tear in the material, careful not to nick her. There were three shallow wounds and a deep purple bruise surrounding them, covering most of her ribs and reaching down to her waist.
The woman was breathing shallowly, and the young man tried to ignore how smooth and pale her skin was. Her scent was equally enticing, and despite himself, he took a deep breath. It reminded him of dark earth and wildflowers. She stirred, and he glanced at her angelic face, with smooth round cheeks, a button nose, dimples, and delicate brows. And those lips... thick, pink, and soft, making him lean closer.
He jerked back, shook his head, and sighed slowly, dispelling the swirling fog in his mind. He tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of her dress and tied it around her wound, applying pressure and creating a makeshift bandage. As he worked, he noticed her skin was hot with fever. Her limbs twitched as if aching from some great illness. Placing a hand on the back of her head, he felt the heat radiating from her.
He stood and looked around the forest, hoping to find some landmark or sign of civilization, but he saw only trees and the solitary woman. Frustrated, he glanced down and froze, tilting his head and looking up, taking a step back and placing his hand on the sword hilt in an unconscious defensive move. The woman now stood no more than a dozen feet away, having made no sound. She stepped back, watching his blade warily but without fear.
He quickly glanced to the side, keeping her in his peripheral vision, checking for more strangers emerging from the strange fog. Seeing nothing, he relaxed his grip on the sword hilt and stood up, raising his hands and smiling.
"I'm sorry, it's been a strange night," he said, then pointed to the woman lying at his feet. "Do you have a car or know where a phone booth is? This woman is seriously injured, possibly poisoned. She needs to get to a hospital."
The woman stood there for a long moment, her gaze unreadable, then she began to walk around him and the unconscious woman, taking in every inch of him and the woman he had dismissed in a second. He almost spoke, but the moment was so strange, amid an evening full of oddities, that he didn't want to break the spell of silence.
He observed her in turn. She was of medium height, with straight, black hair, silky and shining in the moonlight like liquid ebony. Her skin was like ivory, unmarred by time or imperfections. It was hard to tell her age, but if he had to guess, he would say she was around twenty. Her eyes were black pools that drew him in. Calming himself, he tore his gaze away, his eyes traveling down her body, taking in the figure clad in a silky red top, leather capri pants, and red stilettos. Over it all, she wore a black trench coat that swirled and shifted in a strange manner.
She turned, her beautiful face revealing nothing, pausing only for a moment when he broke eye contact.
"Who are you?" she asked suddenly, her words full of command, compelling him to speak.
He stood, crossing his arms over his chest, and looked at the woman. His anger and confusion made him stubborn as a pig.
"You cut through the fog like someone shaking off a stupor... You break a witch's spell as if it were a mere inconvenience. You shrug off the compulsion of my gaze and..." her hand suddenly twitched before her face, contorting in anger.
"You refuse to answer me?" Her mouth remained open, about to threaten him, rage building, but the young man laughed, the sound easy and carefree.
"You never said 'please'," he said, his smile softening before her enraged face, extending a hand in invitation. "I'm Harry Potter. I'm sorry, it was rude of me not to introduce myself."
The woman dropped her hands to her sides, her anger dissipating, looking him up and down again. She glanced at his hand and crossed her arms under her ample, firm bosom, doing amazing things to her blouse's neckline. She didn't miss the young man's wandering gaze, nor the slight blush on his cheeks. The corner of her perfectly sculpted mouth curled into a smile, the first in many years.
"You are exactly as you appear, Harry Potter, which is both terrifying and exciting. I too have wanted to meet you." With those words, she walked slowly into the fog.
"Farewell, lady," said the young man, "and may fate be with you." Then he sighed and knelt, preparing to take the feverish blonde beauty onto his shoulders.
"You offer me a blessing?" The beauty's voice emerged from the fog. "When I offer you neither aid, nor support, nor a shadow?"
The young man fell to his stomach and looked around the strangely dense fog, shrugging.
"One of my aunt's friends used to say it. It never hurts to be kind, even to a stranger at night. Besides," he sighed, hoisting the woman onto his shoulders and fending off tendrils of fog that tried to invade his mind, "who am I to judge?"
"Hsssssstsk," the sound was a hiss cut short in shock. Suddenly the fog swirled and dispersed, revealing a path. In the distance, a golden light swayed in the night.
"You are indeed dangerous, Harry Potter. A very interesting and noble young man. I will keep an eye on you in the future... if you make it that far." Suddenly, the woman stood nearby, and the young man turned to see her watching him, her large eyes reading every angle of his face, memorizing it. He even thought she sniffed him, her nostrils flaring, and her upper lip twitching, but interestingly, he didn't notice her breath.
"Please," he said, his smile weary, back bending under the weight, "call me Harry, that's what my friends call me."
"Now you call me a friend..."
A tremor passed through the strange little woman, and she reached out, carefully avoiding the man as she placed a delicate hand on the injured blonde. At her touch, the blonde stirred, groaned, and collapsed against the man's shoulders.
"She will live," said the dark-skinned woman, her voice sounding exhausted. "That's all I can do tonight... I can also offer you this, my name: Violetta Zabini. But my friends..." her voice trailed off for a moment, making the man focus on her eyes. Darkness swirled in their depths, black so deep he felt he could fall into it forever.
"My friends call me Viola," she finished with a weak, trembling smile.
"Nice to meet you, Viola," he replied, tension thick in the air. For a moment, it seemed she wanted to kiss him.
"Ungh... nghn!" Suddenly, the woman on his back violently retched, her stomach emptying onto his back as she gasped for air, clenching all her muscles.
He laid the blonde down, careful not to vomit on the ground. When he looked up, Viola was gone. The fog quickly dissipated, a gentle breeze blowing through the forest.
"Poor woman, she must be teased a lot with such a name," he thought.
"Eve, they are here!" a voice called from ahead. Moments later, two breathtaking women burst from the fog.
Harry froze in place, meeting the eyes of both women, a wave of dizziness and déjà vu washing over him. Like the blonde he held, he felt a powerful attraction to each of them. So strong it hurt his heart. He felt dizzy, and as they drew near, his knees buckled, and he fell forward, allowing the woman to free herself as he hit the hard ground.
His head rang, and he struggled to get up, nausea twisting his insides, and his body ached in a sudden and powerful fever. Feeling a deep pain in his side, he looked down and saw that one of the monster's venomous claws had gouged a bloody wound in his leather jacket, shirt, and side. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness were three angelic faces looking down at him with similar concern.
Chapters 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 are already on Pa tr eon
If you would like to read the next chapters faster, see exclusive content, or support my work, please visit
Pat re on. c om(slash)belleveela(delete spaces)