INHERITANCE
The finest inheritance you can give to a child is to allow it to make its own way, completely on its own feet
Isadora Duncan
The bird was at the edge of her perception; teasing her, mocking her. She tried to ignore it, to concentrate. The sudden burst of song didn't help her in the least, and so she opened her eyes and glared. The bird stared back at her; black shining eyes curious. It twittered merrily and Padma pursed her lips.
She shook her head and tried to ignore the twittering nuisance. Deep breaths, she reminded herself.
Let not yourself peer too deep into your thoughts, but simply let your mind drift. She recalled her master's words and let them guide her.
A gentle breeze wafted into the garden and wound itself around her shoulders; the scents tickled her nose. She continued breathing steadily and slowly her shoulders loosened, the tension bleeding out of her frame. Her mind relaxed, the crease on her brow smoothing away. Her mind quietened and she found herself adrift; slowly she sunk deeper into herself until with a click her perception shifted.
The earth was still soft and she could feel the slight dampness of the grass underneath her skirt. The breeze was tousling her hair and the sun was kissing her skin – but there was more, stimuli she could not grasp before suddenly came to the fore. The pulse of life and the vibrancy of emotion filled her metaphysical senses. She ignored all else and concentrated on the bright ball of life and energy in front of her.
She marvelled at sensation; previous experiences had lacked the depth she was now feeling – no, she amended her thoughts; it was she who had lacked depth. But now she knew what was there, what she had been unable to grasp before. There was more to the emotions now, their ebb and flow, their energy, she couldn't just merely pull and probe, but she could follow them, down deeper.
She felt a thrill of nervous energy run through her and she took a deep breath. She caressed the energy, a string of wispy cloud in her minds eye. She took her time making sure she was familiar with this the first layer. It felt like hours but was in actuality barely minutes.
Settling herself she reached out, a larger tendril, stronger, and spoke into the ether; "Stop."
The bird twittered again, uncompelled. She tried again, pushing, pulling on the thread, the bird twittered. Frustrated she tried again, and again the bird mocked her, its energy bubbling up as the bird hopped from branch to branch. Throwing caution to the wind she pulled hard before she realised her folly; with a muted cry she heard a snap and the tether broke and rebounded on her, she hissed.
She blinked back her tears, her vision blurred briefly and she put a hand to her throbbing temple. She spied the bird looking back at her, it beady eyes curious. She let out a frustrated cry, a sudden gust rushed forth snapping the branches back. The bird was gone, either swept away or having fled, it did not matter.
"I thought we were meditating?" A calm voice asked.
Padma flinched, flushing in embarrassment. She had forgotten that she wasn't alone. Ironic considering the point of the exercise.
"Um yea. The bird, it was um distracting?" she lied unconvincingly.
The guru hummed and opened an eye, peering at the young tree, now bent oddly. "Well, I see you got rid of it." The man said affably.
Padma grimaced. She hated when he did that – disapproving while being so uncaring. "That was an accident." She defended herself.
"Evidently." There was a beat of silence before the man let out a sigh. With grace belying his age, he adroitly stood, his limbs pulling out of his pose and stretching. The old man gazed back at his young student behind a pale bushy brow. Padma tried to adopt a calm and collected expression but she was less than successful.
"What's bothering you?" he asked his dark eyes knowing.
"Nothing?" Padma answered quickly, too quickly. His bushy brow rose up slowly and he turned and stared pointedly at the tree.
"Really?"
Padma looked at the ground, suddenly finding the blades of grass quite interesting. She knew he must have felt her doing something. She wondered how much she could say.
"Your grandmother tells me you're having trouble sleeping." He stated casually.
Padma started, surprised and looked up at him, her expression inquisitive. "She told you that?" She accused. "Why would she tell you that?"
"I am your teacher, your guide; and she felt best to tell me. If something is troubling you…"
"I'm fine, okay?" she said abruptly, she met his eyes briefly but quickly looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "I think it's just the different time zones and late astronomy classes…I'm having some trouble adjusting." She finished.
"That makes sense." He nodded.
It didn't. Padma knew it and so did he, yet he wasn't saying anything, and Padma was thankful for that small mercy. Neither of them said anything else for a time. Padma absentmindedly played with the grass, her fingers tracing the edges of the blades.
She stared down at the town. She could see people, tiny from this far, and she imagined what they were doing right now, early in the morning. The baker would be lighting his oven, getting his pans ready. The fisherman would be bringing in his overnight haul and the grocer would be arranging his fruits.
"Can I ask you something?" she found herself saying suddenly.
"Anything."
"To walk in another's shoes – do you think it's possible? Truly?" still she did not look at him, but in her mind's eye she could see him. His forehead crinkling in slight thought, the skin of his cheeks jumping as he worked his jaw, mulling over her words.
"With your gift, it very well might be." He informed her.
"But I just feel emotion, intent." she pulled harder on the grass digging into the soft earth.
"Yes." He answered with a strange tone, "What better way is there to understand someone, than to feel what they feel, to experience the world as they do, to sense as they do?"
"A mind reader could." She offered.
"Perhaps." He nodded. "But legilimency is a poor substitute, except for those who it comes naturally to."
"Like me." She stated and finally looked up at him.
"Like you." He nodded before looking to the side taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "I have told you before that the Mind Arts are a difficult field, a difficult magic and the rules, the restrictions placed on it, make it hard to research. Your empathy – " he shook his head, cutting himself off. Padma felt his agitation before he mastered himself.
"Empaths are nothing new," He continued to say, "But rarely is the gift so well expressed as it is in yourself."
Despite herself Padma felt a swell of pride. It must have showed on her face because he shook his head.
"I do not say this to praise you or put you on a pedestal. It is a gift, after all, not something you worked to gain. But I tell you this to caution you. There is a reason you have these sessions with me." He admonished lightly.
Padma lowered her head, thoroughly abashed. She chewed her lip, nervously, mulling over her next words.
"You once said I was dangerous." Padma said, accusation bleeding into her words despite her best efforts.
He nodded, solemnly, unperturbed by her tone.
"Yes. Untrained, you are, as is anyone with the ability to see the layers beyond normal perception. Dangerous to not only others, but to yourselves as well. You peer into the hearts and souls of men, is that not dangerous? So you must train and master yourself and this gift, else one day you may delve where you ought not to."
Padma wanted to tell him that she had already delved into something she wasn't supposed to, but fear and uncertainty held her back. This wasn't Hadrian, who trusted her and accepted her easy explanations. This was a man, wiser and more cautious, who knew just what her abilities were and could be. So as she stared into his pale eyes, she decided against it. She would figure this out herself. Her hand crept to her neck and stroked the delicate band of gold. "What about my necklace then? You said it was meant to contain my gift."
"It is, but it cannot do so forever, lest it do more harm than good. The older you get the less it will affect you, the enchantments burning away as your power grows." He explained.
She frowned. That night, post troll, while they were being fretted over in the hospital, her necklace had felt warm in the hallow of her neck. Was that what he meant? Had she pushed her powers beyond what the necklace could contain for those few moments? It certainly seemed so.
A familiar presence entered her field her of perception and she turned, looking towards the house. The guru's eyes followed hers. She saw her sister, Parvati, making her way through the garden towards them, looking a little unsteady on her feet.
"We shall continue this session and talk another time then." He stepped away from her in a single smooth motion and offered her a smile. "I shall see you soon, little student." He inclined his head.
Quickly springing to her feet, Padma brought her hands together and dipped into a bow and murmured, "Thank you master."
He offered her another smile before with a half-turn he disappeared in a swirl of cloth and leaves.
"He doesn't like me much does he?" A sleepy voice asked behind her.
"No, it's not that. We were done for the day and he had to go." Padma offered reassuringly.
Parvati eyes rolled skyward, a puff of air escaped her lips before she dropped down to the soft grass with a gentle rustle, "Always the peace keeper, aren't you?"
"One of us has to, considering how much trouble you'll raise once you're in charge." Padma sidled up closer to her sister before dodging Parvati's half-hearted swat.
"You shouldn't speak that way to me," Parvati affected a haughty tone, her nose upturned obnoxiously. "I could have you banished; you know." The elder twin finished.
Padma snorted and the two girls shared a laugh. Parvati sighed, closed her eyes and leaned her head against her sister's shoulder. Padma adjusted slightly so that her head rested atop Parvati's. The two basked in the morning sun, their skin tingling pleasantly as the notes of song and fragrance danced around them.
"Why are you up so early?" Padma asked after a while.
Parvati mumbled something Padma couldn't catch. Annoyed, Padma flicked her sister on the head.
"Ow!" Parvati mustered enough energy for a glare. "I said, I was supposed to go dad today. He left before I could get ready."
"You sound sad about it. I thought you hated sitting around all day, stuck in meetings." Padma adjusted her neck, looking down at her sister.
"I did, I still do…" Parvati huffed, her brow crinkled. "It's just that I thought I could give being responsible a go…."
"No!" Padma said in mock horror. Parvati swatted her upside the head.
"I really did. Dad sat me down before we went to school and we had a talk. I was hoping to give it a shot you know, make him proud." Parvati said quietly.
Padma wrapped her arms around her sister and Parvati did the same.
"Maybe he just forgot or something. He has been busy lately." Padma offered helpfully.
"He's also been acting weird, you know?" Parvati sat up suddenly, almost sending Padma tumbling.
Parvati, unmindful of her sister's heated stare, continued. "Just the other day, he was talking to a captain of the Seema Gashtee and well, it was weird."
"Parvati, father talks with the Gashtee often, that's nothing new." Padma stated her brows knit in slight worry.
"Well this was – I went to get a snack late that night…" Parvati started to explain and Padma nodded, familiar with her sister's nocturnal habits. "…and well I saw them out, by the courtyard. They were whispering and the captain looked shifty, like he was in a hurry."
"That is different." Padma conceded slowly. Usually her father conducted meetings in his office and met with the various sections of the military once every week or so. He did not conduct clandestine meetings in the shadow of night.
"Maybe it was just some sort of emergency." Padma said searchingly, but her mind was a whir of thoughts.
"Yea could be." Parvati agreed, quickly dismissing it all.
Padma would have nodded if not for a niggling thought; they had not heard of anything happening. No rumour or tall tale; that was suspicious. The various servants around the estate were horrible gossips, Padma knew and the twins had taken advantage of it many a time.
Padma recalled that overheard conversation she had not been eavesdropping on between her father and grandmother one cool morning months ago. Another thought occurred to her; one she had dismissed at the time. Parvati and her had been accompanied by more guards than usual when they had ventured to the bazaar a few days ago.
"Parvati, I think…" Padma started but was cut off.
"Why is that tree bent?" Parvati asked suddenly. Parvati had her head tilted, eyes wide and looking at the tree, seemingly noticing it for the first time.
"I may have lost my concentration a bit, sent a gust of wind at it." Padma explained sheepishly.
Parvati looked at the tree and then back at her sister before she grinned slowly, her teeth gleaming.
"So you blew up at it?" Parvati wiggled her eyebrows. Padma groaned and hid her face in her hands.
"That was so corny…" Padma groaned through her fingers.
"Hey, I thought it was clever!" Parvati protested, lightly pushing her sister away.
"Of course you'd think that. But that was just sad." Padma shot back.
"Oh ha ha. You know I'm the funny one, right?" Parvati challenged.
"No you're not, you're the fun one, but I'm funnier than you." Padma protested.
"That doesn't make any sense at all." Parvati said wide eyed, hands splayed out for emphasis.
"Just because you don't get it doesn't mean it's nonsense." Padma sniffed, looking away.
"Well I will have you know…" Parvati stopped and squinted, looking into the distance.
A speck was growing steadily closer on the horizan until she could make out its general shape. "Is that an owl?" Parvati asked.
Padma turned to look and yes indeed it did look like an owl, a very familiar white not owl.
"Hedwig." Padma cried, rising to her feet, surprised and elated. The bird veered off to their left and then suddenly dived. There was a muffled squeak before Hedwig twitched her leg and the sound died out.
"Did she just kill a mouse?" Parvati asked in disbelief. Her face pulled into a grimace and she looked away as Hedwig proceeded to tear into her plump morsel.
Padma ignored her sister and approached the bird. Padma stroked the pure white feathers in greeting. Padma's lips curled upward as she felt the rush of impressions and warmth she got from the familiar. Greetings. Friend of Master.
She then untied the small matchbox she saw attached to Hedwig's leg. The box, now in the palm of her hand, shivered and shook, growing in size until it was larger than her whole hand. She smiled at the handy piece of magic; idly wondering how he got around the magical age restriction. Probably with runes, she smiled fondly and only a little exasperated.
"What are you smiling about? Did your boyfriend send you a present?" Parvati peeked over Padma's shoulder.
"Parvati for the last time, he is not my boyfriend. We are eleven." Padma rolled her eyes.
"So?" Parvati asked, eyes wide with beguiling innocence. Padma rolled her eyes and moved away from her sister, deciding to ignore her. She opened what she presumed was her Christmas present. A slim book greeted her.
"He's quite late, isn't he? And really a book? I'll never understand you Ravenclaws." Parvati's voice danced airily on the breeze. Padma bit her tongue, swallowing away her biting retort. Picking up the note, she read;
Merry Christmas Padma! I thought you would like a good read over the holidays.
P.S. Could you feed Hedwig; the long flight will probably make her peckish.
She snorted at the last part. Her eyes landed on Hedwig, who it seemed had finished off her snack. Peckish indeed. Carefully she took the book and fingered the title; The Gentle Touch: An Introduction to Healing. An indescribable warmth filled her and she felt her cheeks tingle, her smile stretching them wide. She had said it in passing, but it seemed Hadrian had picked up on her interest in healing. Thinking of Hadrian inevitably brought her mind to their latest adventure before the Christmas break.
Firenze left them at the edge of the woods. The centaur had murmured some words to Hadrian before disappearing into the dark forest. The four walked, slowly, unhurried, the crunching of gravel underfoot the only sound between them.
Hadrian was in front, pale and staring determinedly forward. Neville brought up the rear, his eyes flitting from shadow to shadow, his arms held close. Padma and Hermione were in the middle and kept glancing at either of the boys worriedly. Hermione looked at Padma and then stared pointedly at Hadrian.
Padma frowned, what was she supposed to say to him, what could she say? 'Hey chin up, there's no guarantee that it was the Dark Lord…' If she had been anyone else, this would have seemed reasonable, plausible. But she wasn't anyone else, she had felt that creature.
It was so inhuman and filled with so much anger and rage that it had left her paralyzed. She had felt its perverse sense of triumph as Hadrian had laid there in pain. The sense of vindication, of vengeance, had been so suffocating and overwhelming. So when Hadrian had said His name, Padma had known it to be true.
She looked back at Hermione and shook her head helplessly. Hermione scowled. The Gryffindor witch squared her shoulders and quickened her step.
"Hadrian." She placed a hand on his shoulder. He stopped; shoulders stiff. "We have to talk about what happened." Hermione said firmly.
There was a beat of silence before Hadrian sighed and turned around reluctantly. He avoided looking at the other three, his eyes darting between the sky and ground, zealously avoiding the sight of the forest.
"We have to tell the teachers about Voldemort…" Hermione began.
Neville let out a strangled noise. The boy was looking at Hermione, his mouth open and soundless, eyes wide and face pale
"You said it…" the chubby boy said shakily, accusingly. "You said his name."
"You mean Voldemort?" Hermione frowned bemused, glancing at the other two. Padma shook her head while Hadrian grimaced and looked away.
Neville squeaked, stumbling a few steps back and frantically made a strange gesture, twisting his hand and pushing away. Padma recognized what he was doing – she had seen her grandmother do something similar, to ward off bad spirits and omens, she had said.
"I don't know what's wrong," said Hermione, quite confused. "It's just a name."
"Just a name? You have no idea. We never say His name – it's bad, very bad. The name is jinxed…." Neville clammed up, but he kept shaking his head at Hermione.
"I've heard of this," Padma said, placing a hand on Neville's shoulder, looking at the boy with worry. She rubbed soothing circles across his back. Slowly Neville visibly calmed down.
"Back in the war, it's said the Dark Lord placed a curse on his name, so that he could always know who was talking about him." Padma explained.
"You can do that?" Hermione asked with obvious interest.
"He could." Neville answered, his voice quiet. "If you said his name, he and his followers would find you, wherever you were and then they would…." Neville got a faraway haunted look in his eyes. "We don't say the name ever." The note of finality in Neville's voice was clear.
Hermione looked at Neville, seemingly seeing him for the first time. "Still we have to tell the teachers…"
"And say what?" Hadrian interrupted. "Oh, by the way professor, my friends and I chased a unicorn into the forbidden forest and met what might or might not be Voldemort !" Hadrian said sarcastically.
Neville let out a strangled cry of despair, "Dammit would you stop saying that!" The other three turned to look at Neville owlishly. They had never once heard the soft-spoken boy swear.
"Sorry Neville." Hadrian said, feeling contrite. Hadrian let out a sigh, looking at Hermione's determined face. "We can't, okay?"
Hermione scowled. "The teachers might know what to do, they could deal with Vol- the dark lord."
"But that's the thing, I'm not sure it was Him, just because my scar hurt – it could have been anything." Hadrian explained.
"Firenze said it was though and you didn't disagree." Hermione argued back.
"We only just met Firenze and I-I…" Hadrian looked at Padma for some help but she gave him a helpless shrug. "…I was in shock. That can happen sometimes…" he finished lamely.
Despite his weak argument, Hermione paused, thinking about it. Padma then decided to throw in her two knuts. "I don't think your scar hurting means it was the dark lord. I've read that scars left over from curses can react to dark magic and creatures."
Ignoring how Padma even knew such a thing, Hadrian jumped on that point. "See Hermione, Padma agrees with me."
"No I don't." Padma shook her head. "I'm just saying that we shouldn't rule out any ideas. Plus telling the professors is a good idea. They ought to know about the unicorns at least." Hadrian deflated; he had been expecting her to agree with him.
"Maybe they already do." Neville said slowly. "My gran, she told me once that the creatures of the forest had a good relationship with the school. She said nothing ever happened in Hogwarts without Dumbledore knowing about it."
"That's probably something parents say to kids; to scare us from mischief. Even if it were somehow true, it doesn't mean that the professors do know though…" Hermione said tartly.
"What are ye lot doing ov'r there." A gruff voice bellowed out from the dark.
The kids jumped at the booming voice, hearts leaping into their throats. It came as a genuine surprise when they turned and saw Hagrid standing a few feet from them. His dark woolly coat blending with the deepening darkness, the line of his mouth was stern and in his massive hands was a crossbow as big as Hadrian. They stood staring at him, particularly the intimidating weapon in his hand.
"Well?" Hagrid bit out, dark eyes hard.
"Um, we were out for a walk, an evening stroll." Padma said quickly, her voice surprisingly calm and pleasant.
"We came by your hut earlier but you weren't around, so we went um strolling." Hadrian added, the other three nodded in support.
Hagrid looked at the four of them suspiciously before letting out a sigh, his breath fogging over like the exhaust of a train.
"You shouldn't be near the woods, this late. The centaurs sent a report to Dumbledore earlier today, some bad business with the unicorns you see – can't talk about it so much." Hagrid said the last part in a whisper which was ironic considering how loud his whisper was.
The four kids shared a look before Hermione spoke up. "Mr Hagrid…"
"Oh jus' Hagrid, I'm not that old." He let out a throaty chuckle.
"Right," Hermione bemused. "So, Hagrid, this business with the centaurs, does it happen often?" The other three cringed at Hermione's obvious attempt at fishing for information. So it was a surprise when Hagrid didn't call her out on it.
"Nah, those centaurs, they like to stick to themselves you see. Though…" Hagrid seemed to look at them contemplatively before he continued, "…last couple of months they have reached out a lot more."
The four looked at each other; so this wasn't an isolated incident, just like Firenze had said.
"We should get going Hagrid, I – we will see you later then?" Hadrian motioned towards the castle.
"Right you are. Back to the castle with you lot." He gave them a jaunty wave and headed off towards the treeline. "Oh and Hadrian…" he called out before he disappeared into the shadows. "Best wipe that blood off your jumper, wouldn't want it to stain now would we."
That encounter with Hagrid had almost sent them into a near panic. Even Hermione who had advocated for a meeting with the professors had a change of heart. It was one thing to come out and admit that you had broken school rules and it was another to be found out during the process, Hermione had said. They had experienced a few nerve-wracking days, waiting for one of the professors, maybe McGonagall to call them in the middle of a class and somehow announce their expulsion. But it never came.
Like the jumper Hadrian had stuffed into the bottom of his trunk; Hagrid, it seemed, had forgotten the encounter, or at least he had kept it to himself. Padma did not want to imagine how a conversation with both the headmaster and her father would have gone. It was plain luck that none of her misadventures had reached her father. Padma frowned at the thought – it was rather weird, now that she thought about it.
"Is the book any good then?" Parvati asked and looked at the item with obvious contempt.
Padma blinked, finding herself in the here and now. She traced the title of her book and smiled. "Oh yes it's a nice gift. A very thoughtful one." It really was thoughtful.
The forest was thick, its depths impenetrable and hidden in shadow. Hadrian could feel something in the air; a certain watchfulness – as if some creature in the shadows was observing him, trying to decide if he was friend or foe. He felt wary – the last time he had gone into a forest had not ended well. As if hearing his very thoughts, a phantom pain made itself known on his left leg. He closed his eyes and took a breath, putting the memories to the back of his mind.
"Well we don't have all day, get on with it." A voice grouched.
Hadrian glanced behind him. Ripclaw was not a morning goblin, he surmised from the banker's sour expression. Uncle Vernon was standing beside the ill-tempered goblin, bundled up in his thick coat and hat. Hadrian looked back at the forest; he felt an unnatural urge to turn back, a pressing need to be elsewhere. His leg twitched, the muscles spasming for a moment before he mastered himself.
Ripclaw had told him that this would happen. It was the wards, the various enchantments that protected this place. Hadrian steadied himself, filling his head with resolve. The feeling, the urge, came again but this time he was ready and so like a stalwart rock in a stream, the feeling crashed against him, parting around him finding no true purchase.
He took a step forward pulling out his wand and he felt that watchfulness return, stronger, but now there was something else there, something familiar – anticipation. He raised his wand and its tip glowed, the light pulsing in tandem to his heart. He brought the wand to his mouth, almost touching his lips and whispered; " Revelare."
His words brushed the light away into motes of light, the wind stirred and carried the faint wisps into the forest and with it went his power. For a moment there was nothing; the sound of birds faded and the wind stilled. Then, like a still lake with a stone dropped into it, the forest in front of him rippled and suddenly there was a path. The trees groaned and moved, parting and forming an arch that led into the depths. Hadrian could glimpse a fain light at the end of the tunnel.
"Well damn, even I felt that." Uncle Vernon's voice startled Hadrian. He turned and found his uncle beside him looking surprised.
"Is it-is it always like that Ripclaw?" Hadrian asked, finding himself out of breath. There was something in the air, he was starting to feel heady.
"A Potter hasn't been here in over a decade. The wards must be excited." The goblin said casually.
Hadrian nodded before something crossed his mind, "Wait are you saying wards can be sent…"
POP! Hadrian and Vernon quickly turned around to see what had popped amongst them. Dressed in dark robes; the being was short, a little over three feet, had creamy skin, a large long nose and floppy ears that were currently brushing against the grass from the deep bow. The being straightened up and peered at them with large luminous eyes.
"Master Potter." Its voice was strained and trembled. Those large eyes were staring at Hadrian, full of adoration. Hadrian felt quite uncomfortable.
"Hello." He smiled nervously. Large eyes lit up and before Hadrian knew what was happening, he was being embraced.
"It has been so long, so long Master Potter sir. Duff is pleased, oh the joy master…." The small being sniffled and sobbed.
Hadrian cringed when he heard the little being sniffle. His coat was going to be a mess. He looked at his uncle, hoping for help but the man looked just as lost as him. Hadrian looked at Ripclaw. The goblin looked irritated, he let out a huff that sounded more like a growl.
"Honestly, house elves are such drama queens. They get weepy over the littlest thing…" the goblin grumbled.
"Wait, he's an elf?" Hadrian asked surprised. He had imagined something quite different when someone said elf.
"Yes, a house elf and your steward. Now calm him down already." The goblin said irritably, sighing at the elf who continued to sob.
Hadrian gently patted the elf's little back but that only seemed to make it worse. Hadrian panicked and grabbed the elf by his slim shoulders, "Hey, hey calm down, alright?"
The elf sniffled and rubbed its eyes before it stared at Hadrian, its large eyes blinking rapidly.
"Okay, I'm Hadrian Potter, something I think you already know, which is weird as I never told you my name…" Hadrian professed.
"Oh of course Duff knows who Master Potter is." The elf let out a bell like laugh and Hadrian felt like he was the butt of some joke somewhere.
He decided to concentrate on something else, "Duff, your name is Duff?"
"Yes master Potter. I am Duff, the oldest and last Potter elf and also Keeper of the lands." The elf pronounced, a solemn air about him.
Hadrian nodded, mentally connecting Keeper of Lands with steward.
"It's nice to meet you Duff and you can call me Hadrian."
"Certainly, Master Hadrian." The elf bowed briefly. Hadrian looked helplessly at Ripclaw but the goblin just motioned to the watch on his wrist.
"This," Hadrian gestured to his uncle and it seemed for the first time that Duff noticed the large man. "…is my uncle, Vernon Dursley."
The elf stared before nodded. "Nice to meet you Vernon."
Hadrian then turned to introduce Ripclaw but the goblin waved him away, "We know each other. Now come along elf, let's get this over with."
Duff folded his arms and scowled, "I don't take orders from you, sour puss."
Vernon let out a snort at the scandalized look on the goblin's face.
"Come Master Hadrian, your domain awaits." The elf took a hold of Hadrian's hand and led him through the path. Vernon and Ripclaw followed.
The first thing he noticed when they emerged from the path, was the smell of salt, mixed with the scent of grass and flowers. The sea glittered in the distance, with a mouth of white blending in with the valley that unfolded before them.
The second thing that he noticed was the weather; where before it was cold and uncomfortable, now it was merely cool and a faint breeze tickled his nose. They were on a hill and it sloped into the valley, forming knolls as it tumbled down. The valley was overgrown with flowers, broken up by trees and bush. On the far side Hadrian could see that the forest wrapped around the valley and tapered out by the cliffs. Hadrian felt a strange pulse around him and couldn't help the nostalgic smile.
"You feel it, don't you master?" the elf said his large eyes shined with knowing.
"What is it?" Hadrian asked feeling something settling around his shoulders, wrapping around him, down to his bones – he felt giddy, excited.
"It is the magic master. The magic of the land, of those who came before – they are welcoming you, their blood." Duff smiled his face lighting up.
"Home." Hadrian looked towards the cliffs, massive white things, carved out of the earth by water and wind. Atop it he could just make out a building and he knew what it was. They made their way down a barely defined path among the tall grass.
It was here that the veneer of beauty started to crack and chip at the edges. Clumps of grass and brush had grown over piles of stone and masonry. As they went further in the, Hadrian saw more ruin, hidden within the fine greenery. Crumbling walls, rotting wood, and charred stone. Nostalgia gave away to melancholy and the land echoed loss. The magic of his ancestors turned cold and solemn, echoing their horrible loss.
Hadrian stopped as he felt metal crunch under his boots. He knelt down and picked up a dark twisted piece of metal. Among the ruin he could see signs, of a once beautiful courtyard surrounded with statues. On a once forgotten breeze, Hadrian could hear a memory of this place, full of children, laughing and playing. He could see them gathering at the grand fountain, the centrepiece with water as clear as glass and stone as white as snow. He could see it in his mind's eye, unbroken and whole. It was beautiful and full of life.
Now all there was, was ruin and rubble. Vines and weeds chocked the once beautiful statues, turning them grey and pulling them down, leaving them broken. The once white stone was black, melted in fires conjured to devour and consumed, its depths full of sludge.
Hadrian felt his stomach clench, something gnawed at his insides welling up and clamping on his heart and clogging his throat. His eyes stung and his vision blurred. He shook his head and blinked, hoping to clear his vision.
He turned to look at Duff and the elf seemed to wilt under his gaze. "What happened here?" he asked, his voice brittle. This place was supposed to be his family's home, their stronghold, their legacy and yet there was nothing but ruins and broken dreams.
"War is what happened." Ripclaw answered, his voice gruff and face sour. Hadrian stared at the goblin, at his weathered visage and looked away.
"Your family had always held onto their beliefs and way of life and over the centuries they have had many an enemy. In the last war your family was neutral…" Ripclaw explained.
"What? But my father – my parents fought against Voldemort." Hadrian denied.
"Only after the Dark Lord razed this town to the ground and brought your family to the brink of extinction." Ripclaw said darkly.
"Master James was only in his fifth year." Duff sniffed.
Hadrian felt his eyes burn and his vision blurred. He sniffed and hot fat tears trailed down his cheeks.
"Hey, hey, hey. Its okay, its okay…." Vernon's smooth voice cooed into his ear and Hadrian found himself wrapped in warmth and affection. The two magical beings looked away, giving the two some form of privacy. Neither of the two said anything; they both knew loss and there was a strength to letting out one's sorrows.
It was akin to thunder, Hadrian mused, watching the sea batter the cliffs. Massive towers of water collided with the cliffs with a deep rumbling boom. Torrents of sea spray leapt up, caught on the wind and burst into a symphony of colour in the sunlight. Hadrian watched this from the cliffside, looking down at the rocks below him, his body tingling with every dull boom.
"You shouldn't sit so close to the edge." His uncle came to stand behind him, his boots crunching on the gravel.
"Duff says there's an enchantment, shoots you right back up if you fall." Hadrian turned to his uncle grinning. "I was thinking of trying it."
Vernon stared at his nephew; Hadrian's eyes were still red from crying and he could tell the boy was putting on a brave face. Vernon let out a chuckle.
"And have your aunt send us both to an early grave?" Trying hard not to look at the edge, Vernon inched closer, "The goblin, Ripclaw, left. Said he had stuff to do."
Hadrian only nodded distractedly. Vernon let out a sigh and then reluctantly sat down beside him. The older man looked down and shuddered. It was a long way down and those rocks looked awfully sharp. Hadrian pretended not to notice how uncomfortable his uncle was acting, instead he looked towards the beach.
Away from the cliffs the rock became sand, pure white. It was a curious transition because everything got calmer away from the cliffs; the sea wasn't a frothing mass of noise and destruction and sharp hard rock became hills of sand. Perhaps that was why the port was built farther away from the cliffs, where the water could be mistaken to have stilled. Or maybe it's just some sort of enchantment. Hadrian couldn't say either way to be honest. His morning had left him feeling extremely out of his depth.
"Hey," a large arm wrapped itself around him and he leaned into his uncle's warmth. The valley didn't feel cold, Duff had mentioned something about enchantments used to temper the weather. Hadn't that been mind boggling.
"How are you dealing with all this?" his uncle's voice rumbled deep from his chest.
"It's a lot and I don't know…" Hadrian looked down at the valley. His eyes now clearly able to see past what first impression had hidden. The scars that nature had failed to reclaim on its own. This had once been a large settlement and all that was left was the port, a shadow of its former self.
"They expect me to rebuild all this." Hadrian knew. He had seen the hope in Duff's eyes, heard the subtle hints of plans existing from Ripclaw.
"You don't have to, if you don't want to. It's yours, you can do whatever you want. Even leave and forget about all this." Vernon offered.
"Wouldn't that be a waste?" Hadrian wondered, feeling ashamed that he was actually considering it.
"Would it?" Vernon challenged.
Hadrian moved, abandoning the warmth of his uncle's embrace. He stared down at the valley. "But all those people, those portraits we saw – my family did so much and-and I can't just do nothing. I want them to be proud of me…" Hadrian started walking around the little around their little spot.
"I'm proud of you, so is your aunt." Uncle Vernon interjected eying his nephew warily.
"I know, but it's different, you know? My mom and dad…my whole family, the Potters – the way people talk about them. I don't want to let them down." Hadrian ran a hand through his wild hair.
Vernon chuckled and Hadrian flushed, he felt embarrassed and angry. He felt like a child. But you are a child, a little voice chided him at the back of his mind.
"You know both my grandfather and father were in the army." Uncle Vernon said suddenly.
"I-um what?" Hadrian stumbled to a stop, the non sequitur throwing him off balance.
"Yea," Vernon nodded. "I was and am a big guy, so I wanted to be in the army too, you know?" he leaned back, laying his head over his arms and stared at the sky.
Hadrian fidgeted, clamping his mouth shut to stem the questions popping into his head. Uncle Vernon continued; "So I joined, right out of school and it was good for a while and then it wasn't. I think, maybe I didn't have the fortitude or maybe it was something else that I lacked. I never looked into it beyond the feeling of wrongness I felt. I struggled with it, had sleepless nights, but eventually I went with what felt most right. So I left."
"But wasn't it what you wanted?" Hadrian asked, looking at his uncle intently.
"It was – or at least I thought it was, at the time." Vernon let out a sigh before pulling his head up and peering at his nephew. Vernon gestured for Hadrian to lay beside him.
"Both my father and grandfather had been in the army, served their country and they were damn proud of it. I looked up to my father, God rest his soul. I wanted to continue his legacy you see, to make him proud – another Dursley man, serving the queen. It was a good dream, but it was the wrong dream." Vernon explained.
Hadrian stared up at the pale sky, the clouds were flat curtains of delicate silver. He didn't know what his uncle was trying to get at; it was frustrating.
"So are you saying I shouldn't want to rebuild this place?" the young boy voiced his frustration.
"I'm saying that you should, but only if it's what you want. You shouldn't chase a dream because it's what someone expects from you or because they will be proud. Don't chase a dream you think someone else would want you to chase. If you do that, your heart won't be in it, you'll always wonder if that's what you were meant to do. Instead, do it for you, do it so that you can be proud, leave your own legacy. Do that and your ancestors will be proud."
Hadrian looked to his side, down toward the valley. He saw the reach of nature, reclaiming unused paths, saw the broken rubble of once towering buildings. Something, warm and powerful, welled up inside him; and for a moment he didn't see ruins. Instead he saw gleaming stone and burning crystal, a beautiful beacon on the coast – and then the vision was gone. Hadrian sat up, breathless. His uncle followed suit, worried.
"Something wrong?" the older man asked, placing his hand on his nephews shoulder.
"I am going to rebuild it." Hadrian turned, looking at his uncle, his eyes full and shining with determination. His uncle looked at him for a moment, their gazes never wavering.
The older man smiled and let out a chuckle, "I can't wait to see what you come up with then."
Hadrian grinned before he lay down again. Absentmindedly he played with the ring on his right hand, letting the crashing waves lull the two into a peaceful silence. Hadrian then remembered something; "I don't know anything about construction or running a town."
Vernon laughed, a full belly laugh. Hadrian pouted briefly but quickly joining in, laughing.
"The latter you can learn and the former, well I'm sure we will figure it out." Vernon said after calming down.
"Thanks uncle Vernon."
Vernon just hummed in acknowledgement and the two once again lapsed into a comfortable silence.
"A shame we have to get going soon – I could get used to a view like this." Vernon gazed forlornly at the sunset. The sun was going down, bathing the horizon in reds, orange and purple. The sea shimmered gold and the frothing waves gleamed silver. It was a beautiful sight.
"Come on." Uncle Vernon clambered up, jigging his legs a bit to get rid of the numbness. He pulled his reluctant nephew up and they made their way to the ruined manor house. Once it had been a grand building but fire had gutted a good chunk of it and while most of the valuables had been saved, the ancient home of the Potters was a write off.
Hadrian stood in the foyer, the main staircase hung there, broken and leading to nowhere. Light from the sinking sun filtered in from the ruined roof ad walls. Despite the obvious ruin, the manor was well taken care of, the rooms clean and aired out. Duff haunted by the devastation to his once proud family had clung on to his duties. Hadrian found the idea to be bittersweet. A pop signalled the arrival of his steward.
"Will Master Hadrian be going now?" the elf asked wringing his fingers, looking forlorn. Hadrian felt a well of sympathy for the elf.
"Yea, I have to get back to school soon, but I'll be back." Hadrian promised. Duff perked up when he heard that.
"Over the summer…" Hadrian glanced at his uncle who nodded. "I'll visit as much as I can and we can talk about all those plans you said grandfather had."
Duff sniffled, nodding his head so vigorously Hadrian was afraid it would fly off the elf's little neck.
"Duff must give master one last thing," the elf dipped his hand into his pockets and rummaged about. "Duff has kept it with him all these years, keeping it safe, as Lord Potter ordered."
The elf pulled out a worn looking book, and reverently held it out to Hadrian. Feeling a slight trepidation Hadrian took the book. It was surprisingly cool to the touch and the cover was made of some type of dark leather reminiscent of his favourite shoes. "The cover is made from the hide of a Hebridean Black."
Hadrian nodded distractedly, making a note to look up what a Hebridean Black was. He ran his finger across the cover, marvelling at the texture. He noticed something and tilted the book making the light hit it just so.
The Potter crest winked at him, golden against the black leather. "What is this book for?" He opened it, turning the pages – all of them were blank.
"It is a journal; it was your grandfather's and before that his father and before that his father and so on. It was passed down to the eldest child of the main line." Duff explained.
"So does that mean that my father wrote in this….?" Hadrian asked, hope bubbling up in him.
"No." Duff denied. Hadrian swallowed his disappointment.
"Master James never collected the journal – but now it passes to you, the last Potter." Duff intoned, solemnly.
"But if they all wrote in this why is it blank and shouldn't it be bigger?" Hadrian frowned, peering at the blank pages.
"Magic, Master Hadrian." Duff chuckled mischievously. Hadrian flushed, feeling a bit stupid for forgetting such a thing. He nodded before tucking it into his backpack. Uncle Vernon took out a tie from his pocket and wrapped one end around his hand, Hadrian took the other end. He looked at Duff for the last time.
"Take care Duff." Hadrian waved.
"You too master Hadrian, next time I'll take you to meet the nymphs." The elf waved enthusiastically.
"Wait what…?" Too late – the portkey activated and the two were whisked away. A swirling cacophony of colour and light later and they landed unsteadily back in the closet of Privet Drive. Vernon found himself stuffed between two thick coats and an umbrella was digging into his back.
"The goblin could have chosen a better place surely." He grumbled, struggling out of the closet. Hadrian barely paid attention, still thinking about what Duff had said about nymphs.
"I'll go put this away." Hadrian excused, gesturing to the journal and headed towards his room.
"Be quick about it though, I can smell supper." Vernon made his way downstairs, presumably to steal a bit of roast from the pot.
Hadrian smiled, amused by his uncle's antics. He opened his room and placed the journal on his desk. He was taking off his coat when he spotted a curious brown package on his bed. He threw his coat away absentmindedly before picking up the brown paper package. He turned it this way and that, shaking it, trying to guess what was inside. The package remained curiously unforthcoming. Shrugging, he tore away at the paper and something like liquid silver spilled out with a note sitting innocuously on top of it. He picked it up and read the looping letters;
Your father left this in my care. Its time it went back to its rightful place.
Use it well.
He frowned, rereading the short note. It didn't even offer a hint as to what he had gotten. Putting the note aside for now, he picked up his 'gift'. The cloth was cool to the touch and felt silky smooth; it caught the light in strange ways, shimmering silver and grey to his eyes, something shifting within its depths. He stretched it out fully, or as far as his arms could go, trying to figure out what it was.
There was an echo of something from the cloth, some forgotten familiarity. Hadrian felt his magic hum, almost like a pleased feline. An inexplicable urge found him and he spun it round his shoulders draping it over himself. Despite the cloak being cool to the touch he didn't feel any colder. In fact, it felt quite comfortable, safe even, strangely enough. Hadrian wondered at the sensation, was the cloak magical? It must be; just from the way it looked, it hinted at something. Strangely enough the usual magical buzz he got from magical items was strangely silent so maybe it was just a nice to look at cloak?
He heard the click of heels before his aunt gave a quick knock and opened his door, "Hadrian dinner is ready – AHH."
Hadrian spun around; eyes wide with surprise. His aunt was at the door, pale and looking at him gobsmacked.
"What's wrong?" He took a step back, surprised.
"Where-what happened to your body." She stuttered out. "Vernon!" She shouted.
Hadrian confused, looked down. His legs, chest and arms were gone. He could see straight down to the carpet.
"Ahh!" he jumped back in fright and his strangely invisible legs that he could still feel attached to his body got caught on something and he tumbled to the ground. The cloak slipped off his body.
"Your body's back." His aunt exclaimed more surprised than relieved. She looked helplessly at Vernon, who had just gotten there, his lips suspiciously greasy. Hadrian rubbed his stinging behind and looked at the cloak then at his left foot that was still under his cloak; a foot he couldn't see but still feel. "Oh, so that's what it does. Neat."
Isaac cursed; pulling his leg roughly from the cold and wet snow. He glowered at Caleb, a deep well of annoyance bubbling up in him. The older vampire was the picture of calm and poise, gliding over the terrain, leaving nary a print, his clothes pristine except for the unavoidable flakes of snow. Isaac pulled his coat tighter against himself and continued to navigate the forest they were in.
The trees loomed above them, stark and bare, branches covered in heavy snow. There was a subtle breeze; carrying with it a melody of scents and noises. The musk of reindeer, the pounding heart of a rabbit thirty feet to his left, the soft crooning snore of an owl, high up in a dark alcove of a tree. These blended together with the background of pine and snow. But there was something else in the air, something light and distinct. It teased his senses and they had been following it for days now. He was irritated and getting sick of these dreary woods.
"Why the fuck are we in gods know where, trudging through the snow? We know where the girl is going." Isaac called out
"Can't handle a little cold?" Caleb mocked, looking over his shoulder. Isaac scoffed. He could handle the cold just fine, ever since he was turned many years ago, the cold had never been a problem. Fire though, well the less thought about that, the better.
"She's headed south to Italy. We could just skip all this and wait for her there. Simple." Isaac pointed out the obvious.
"Not simple." Caleb sighed before stopping.
"We have our orders and we follow our orders, don't we?" Caleb asked, his tone shifting.
Isaac shifted, wary, and resisted baring his teeth. Instead he folded his arms across his chest, stubbornness filling his frame. "Seem like shitty orders to me…" Seeing the look on Caleb's face though he quickly added; "But orders are orders, yea?"
"That's right. Orders are orders." Caleb nodded smiling pleasantly, his stance relaxing.
They started walking again. Caleb acting like nothing had happened and Isaac pretending he wasn't shooting wary glances at his mentor.
"The boss doesn't want her anywhere near the strongholds." Caleb said suddenly.
Isaac stared at the back of the redhead's head. Caleb continued, either unaware of Isaac's stare or simply uncaring. Isaac suspected the latter.
"We are here to cut her off, before she can get to anyone who would support her claims. Before things get messy." Caleb explained.
Isaac couldn't help the sardonic grin that split his lips. They continued on in silence, following the subtle signs of their quarry's passing. Broken branches, scratched up trees, a deer carcass. The two followed these and her scent, lingering even days after her passing.
Eventually they came to the edge of a clearing and in it was a long and low building. Two things stopped them from skirting it; "Magic." Isaac said neutrally. They both could feel it, a subtle hum of power surrounded the building and in fact the clearing itself. Wards to protect and keep away unwanted guests perhaps?
The second reason was even more pressing; the girl's scent was strong here. Not enough to indicate she was still around, but strong enough to tell she had spent more time here than anywhere else.
"What's the plan?" Isaac asked.
Caleb shook his head and closed his eyes. Outstretching his arm, he held it in front of him and concentrated. Isaac watched and waited patiently, though his eyes darted about their surroundings.
"They are strong but simple wards. Anti-muggle and animal, as far as I can tell." Caleb said after opening his eyes. "We can cross the threshold."
Isaac nodded and stepped forward. A tingle washed over him as he entered the wards before quickly dissipating. "What's the play?" Isaac asked, his tone business like.
"This place is close to the reserve; it could be some sort of halfway house. Let's play it by ear." Caleb ordered.
Isaac nodded and opened the door. Warmth greeted them inside, a large fireplace was off to the side of the room. The fire cast long shadows across the room. A few curious eyes turned toward the two as they entered, but it was momentary as they quickly lost interest. At the counter, a middle-aged balding man, with beefy arms and a stomach this side of portly, presumably the owner, greeted them warmly.
"What can I get you weary travellers?" His voice while rough was friendly enough.
"Two rums please." Caleb said pleasantly.
Isaac turned and looked around. A woman was going around the tables serving and collecting dishes. A perpetual smile on her face. Another woman – no a girl, Isaac corrected himself was helping the woman. It seemed this was a family establishment. He sneered and looked at the various patrons. None of them seemed interesting to him, they were all so plebeian.
"Your drinks." The bartender placed two mugs onto the counter.
Isaac took his glass and took a sip. He hummed; this was some good drink.
"Business seems to be booming, do many people pass by here?" Caleb asked, his voice light and friendly.
"Well with the reserve so close by, zoologists and herbologists pass by often enough. We got rare specimens deep in the woods you know." The barkeep couldn't keep the pride out of his voice. Caleb hummed in agreement.
"Are those the only people that pass by then?" Caleb prodded.
The bartender stopped wiping the glass and looked at Caleb slowly, hints of suspicion darkening his eyes.
"Lots of different types pass by. You and your friend, for example, aren't the usual sort, are ya?" the man said pointedly
Isaac tensed, his arm twitching. He covered it up by taking another sip of his drink. He noticed the girl was looking at him and he met her gaze. She blushed and looked away, looking quite coy. He smirked to himself.
"…my friend and I are looking for someone, she may have passed by these parts." the sound of scrapping metal drew the man's eyes. Gold coins glinted at him from the counter.
"Oh really? What did they look like?" the man asked, affecting a nonchalant air
"A teen, about your daughter's age, dark hair, blue eyes, pretty." Caleb said crisply.
"And what would you folks be wanting with her exactly?" the barkeep asked slowly, his eyes narrowing.
"Nothing nefarious," Caleb smiled pleasantly, keeping his voice light. "She ran from home and we were sent to retrieve her. A young girl out in these parts all alone; it's quite dangerous."
"That is true, it is dangerous out here." The man gave Caleb a significant look. Mulling things over the man finally shook his head. "Though I am sorry to say that nobody fitting that description has passed through here."
The bartender then reached out to collect the galleons. Before he could put away the money a vice clamped onto his wrist. Caleb was still smiling, though it was now decidedly colder and not at all pleasant.
"Is there a problem mister?" the bartender asked trying to act nonchalant despite the fact that no matter how much he tried he couldn't free his hand. How strong was this stranger?
Feeling the futility of his actions, his other hand drifted to the underside of the counter, out of sight.
"Not a problem per say, it's just that I believe that you may have forgotten a detail or two, about the girl." Caleb drew closer to the man, bringing his mouth to his ear, "I can smell her all over you." He whispered low and amused.
The bartender grunted as the pressure on his wrist increased. He could almost hear his bones cracking and grinding.
"Ulric, is there a problem?" The woman, his wife asked. She was standing a few feet from them, unable to see exactly what was happening between the two. Suddenly the room fell silent as everyone became aware of the tension between the two men. Some of the patrons shifted, getting ready to draw their weapons at the slightest provocation. Caleb turned to look at her. A lot of things happened all at once.
Isaac gulped down his drink. Ulric let out an enraged cry but it was lost in the noise as a hot blast tore the counter apart, heading for Caleb's torso. Caleb broke Ulric's wrist and twisted to the side at the last second. The spell hit his side, grazing him. It still sent him spinning, tossing him off his feet.
The wife fumbled for her wand; Isaac promptly threw his glass at her. Reflex saved her; an impromptu blast of power shattered the glass into so many pieces before it could nail her in the face. Bits of glass flew everywhere, almost blinding her. Spells, a myriad of colours sped towards him but Isaac was already gone. He blurred away, sending bodies flying as he barrelled past them. He reappeared in front of the door with the girl held tight in his arms.
"Nobody move!" The girl tried to struggle but something sharp and cool pressed against her pale neck and she stilled. Everybody stopped, wands held aloft and hands outstretched, incantations dying on their lips. Some patrons were halfway out of their seats, hands going for wands and other weapons. Some had taken cover under their tables and chairs.
A movement at the corner of his eye had Isaac react, his hand twitched, moving so fast it was a blur. There was a sharp whistling sound and then a dull squelching thud. One man fell to the floor, clutching at his throat, crimson lifeblood spilling out around the knife blade. For a moment the only sound was of the man gurgling, desperately clinging on to life until finally with a rattling finality he stilled.
"Anyone else feel like dying a hero's death today?" He tightened his grip on the girl, his now empty hand clutched her throat. The girl let out a terrified whimper. Isaac swept his gaze across the room, and nobody was bold enough to meet his gaze.
"Good, now put your weapons on the floor like good little dogs and show me your hands." Isaac looked at Ulric, the man had one of his hands tucked close to his body, while the other held a dark stone.
Ulric looked at his wife; she was clenching her jaw, staring at their daughter and by extension Isaac. She was bleeding from her temple, painting the left side of her face red, but she refused to let that bother her. Her hand was clenching her wand, her knuckles white from her strong grip. Arcs of eldritch energy trailed her wand, eager and volatile.
"Clarissa, do as he says," Ulric grunted out.
She turned to look at him, her nostrils flaring, "Ulric…!"
"No, do as he says. Everyone, do what he says. Please." He looked at everyone, pleading. Slowly everyone put their stuff on the floor.
"I fucking hate heroes." Caleb grunted and pulled himself out of the shattered table, getting up. His coat was shredded and full of splinters. Sneering in disgust, he discarded his ruined coat, throwing it away carelessly. He left a trail of blood as he moved.
His side was bleeding, the pale flesh raw and torn viciously, but the bleeding was quickly slowing down. Blue eyes glowed menacingly as he stared at what remained of the counter. His gaze shifted to the man who had taken a chunk out of him. Ulric stared back remaining defiant, though his eyes kept darting to his daughter. The girl was petrified by fear. "All you had to do was tell us what you knew about the girl, that was it. Now things are about to get messy."
"I can't tell you what you want to know." Ulric ground out gnashing his teeth.
Caleb smiled, teeth bared and bloody, looking vicious.
"We shall see."
He struck like a snake, leaping over the counter and slamming into Ulric. His bloody hands grabbed the man's head tight and made him stare straight ahead. Ulric grunted in pain. Caleb's eyes bled black, becoming an abyss.
"Tell me about the girl." His voice, in contrast to the absolute menace he was radiating, was soft and hypnotic almost ethereal. The man opened his mouth as if to say something and then screamed. Caleb hissed and let go. Ulric fell to the ground, his ears and eyes bleeding.
"Ulric!"
"Papa!"
His wife rushed to his side and Caleb let her, shaking off the stabbing pain in his head. "What have you done to him you monster?" she spat out.
"I didn't do anything. But I suspect the guest you harboured, did something…" Caleb pulled down the man's tunic. There as he suspected was a blood red rune, glowing and sizzling against the man's chest.
"I suspect she did it to all of you."
He stood up and turned to his apprentice and gave him a quick nod. Isaac threw the girl to the floor and swiftly took out a blood red stone. His eyes turning dark, the stone glowed warm in his hand. Before anyone else could react, he turned to the occupants of the room and intoned, " Sleep."
A wave of energy and mist sprung up from his hand and quickly spread across the room. Soon everyone but the two vampires fell into an enchanted sleep.
"Secure the exits and then we extract the information." Caleb ordered.
Isaac nodded his head and cast his gaze towards the girl on the floor. He ruthlessly clamped down on his darker urges, now was not the time. Work first and then play later, he admonished himself.
The mirror made her nervous, a feeling she was not at all accustomed to, especially from such an inanimate object. Feeling her gaze stray, she spun around lest she catch a glimpse and become entranced by what lay in its beguiling depths. Why Albus insisted on having such a detestable artefact in his office she would never know. Speaking of Albus, the door opened and the venerable headmaster walked in.
His eyes found her form immediately and showed a distinct lack of surprise. A younger witch followed behind him, wearing pale blue robes, sensible boots and her hair pulled into a severe bun.
"…at ten you have a meeting with Mr Crouch about the proposed amendment to the new trade policy. You have lunch with Madame Bones, I reserved your usual table at the Snapping Dragon and then at three…." The girl stopped when she noticed Minerva standing in the office.
"That will be all Claire." Albus dismissed her giving her a genial smile. The young witch nodded and placed his schedule on his desk. A quick bow and she left leaving the two alone.
Albus let out a heavy sigh and threw himself into his chair. Minerva looked at him amused.
"She nags me almost as much as you do." He mused rubbing his sore temples.
"Well I wasn't going to hold your hand forever." Minerva answered, smirking at the sour look on her boss' face.
She plucked a sweet from the bowl on the desk and popped it into her mouth. Cherry, nice, she hummed in appreciation. Albus glared at the bowl of sweets like it had offended him.
"I keep telling her that I only want lemon drops…" he almost whined.
"Nobody likes lemon drops though. Stop acting like a child." Minerva smirked at him, fairly amused.
"You have an uncanny ability to suck the fun out of things." Albus glared at her affronted.
"And you pretend to be senile to amuse yourself." She shot back.
"Why are you here instead of enjoying your holiday?" Albus asked, leaning back into his chair.
"We need to talk about the unicorn attacks." Minerva said seriously. Albus dropped his playful attitude and peered at her over his glasses.
"It's about time we informed the relevant authorities, don't you think?" Minerva asked.
"You're concerned about how I am handling this?" Albus realised.
"I am, and I'm not the only one. Four unicorns dead Albus, and we are left floundering." Minerva sighed, frustrated.
"And you think the Department of Creatures would have better luck?" Albus asked smoothly.
Minerva shook her head. "Not necessarily, but we are running out of ideas…"
"I still have some…" Albus offered.
Minerva ignored his comment and continued.
"Nothing is working. The fallout, if this goes public…"
"We will handle that, if it even comes to that." The old wizard soothed.
"Our ability to protect the denizens of the wards would come into question, even the students." Minerva pointed out.
"I know." Albus answered and Minerva noticed how tired he looked. "In any case, I have come to an agreement with the centaurs," Albus continued unaware of Minerva's internal thoughts. "We will be preparing a secure dwelling for the unicorns, fully warded and hidden. Something temporary, until the centaurs and nymphs can root out whatever manner of creature has befallen the forest."
Minerva stayed quiet, mulling over his words and the merit of his plan. When the first report had come to her attention she had been appropriately concerned. Very few creatures could actually catch unicorns and the few that could relied not on speed but guile. That fact made the culprit, whatever it was, exceedingly dangerous. When Minerva had bothered to make a list of magical creatures and beings that could potentially catch a unicorn, two topped the list; goblins and wizards. Not a wonderful idea, all things considered.
Still, Albus' plan had merit, centaurs were masters of the forests and between them and the wood nymphs, they had the highest chance of driving out whatever had taken root in their dwelling.
"Has your scrying brought anything else to light?" Minerva asked after a while. Albus grimaced and shook his head.
"I keep getting the same results, only a vague direction, centred on the school. My scrying has never been up to snuff." Albus scowled, as if offended by the mere thought of cailing.
Minerva nodded in understanding. She herself was pants at scrying and divination in general. She never really bothered with the field.
"Perenelle has offered to try in conjunction with Sybil, perhaps they will get better results." Albus added after a moment.
Minerva nodded and barely managed to keep her expression neutral when he mentioned the Hogwarts divination professor. That woman was a charlatan. Minerva noticed how Albus' gaze had drifted to the mirror.
"Albus." She called out concerned. With the slightest hesitation the old wizard turned to her.
"Yes Minerva?" He asked, nonplussed, or at least he appeared to be. But Minerva had known him a long time and could see that those depths had some grip on him.
"Perhaps you should get rid of that mirror, or at least move it…" she hesitated, looking at his darkened eyes. "It does not do well to dwell on the past."
Albus stared at her, his gaze piercing, but Minerva did not flinch.
"Very well, my experiments with Nicholas have told us as much as we expected to get, I will soon find it a new home." Albus sighed, resigned.
Minerva nodded and stood intending to leave. Her hand reached for the door knob and she stopped. Turning around, she raised her wand and conjured a long piece of cloth, dark and opaque. With a gesture, the cloth draped itself over the large full-length mirror. Satisfied, she gave him one final nod and left, leaving him to his thoughts.
Kingsley blinked the after effects of the portkey away and immediately took note of several things. There was a chill in the air, and he could see his breath fogging over. A slight bit of concentration and his magic wrapped around him, chasing away the chill.
He had been ported into a forest clearing and in the waning light he could make out figures against the white backdrop moving with purpose.
"Are you the other Englishman?" A gruff, heavily accented voice asked. He turned and found grey eyes looking at him behind dark brows. Shacklebolt nodded.
"Auror Captain Shacklebolt, British Second Division." He held out a hand. "Nice to meet you."
The man shook his hand, his grip firm. "Anton." He said and then gestured for Shacklebolt to follow.
They trudged through the snow and headed towards the only building in the clearing. Shacklebolt caught a glimpse of other figures on the edges of the clearing, securing the perimeter.
"Anything you can tell me?" Shacklebolt asked.
"It is better you see yourself." The man grunted out. Shacklebolt nodded not minding.
"Shack!" a voice called out from the porch of the building and a familiar face framed with golden hair smirked at him.
"Dawlish." Shacklebolt greeted stiffly at his compatriot. Dawlish rolled his eyes, his eyes twinkling in humour.
"Lighten up Shack, no need to help the snow with your frigid attitude." He ran a hand through his blond hair, sending snowflakes flying.
"This is no time for jokes." Anton said irritated, his eyes hard. Dawlish blinked in surprise before turning to Shacklebolt, a joke on his lips. Shacklebolt shook his head and Dawlish shrugged.
"I'm sorry about that, meant no disrespect. Humour is how I deal with high stress situations. I'll tone it down." Dawlish offered a charming smile. Anton stared at him for a brief moment before nodding. The large German then left them there, entering the building. Immediately Shacklebolt turned to his countryman, "What's the situation?"
"To put it simply, it's a shit show." Dawlish grimaced. "It's brutal, I hope you didn't have anything fancy for lunch."
Shacklebolt pursed his lips, this didn't sound good.
"Come on." Dawlish led the way, stepping inside, Shacklebolt followed.
The first thing to hit him was the smell. The sickly sweet of rotting flesh mixed with the sour of excrement. Then there was the blood; it covered the walls and painted the counter. As if a demented child had been given free rein to redecorate the room with bodily fluids.
The bodies started just inside the door; a man, his face twisted into a rictus of pain, his stomach cut open and his organs missing. More of the same clawed at his eyes, men in various states of pain and death, some with entire limbs missing. Strangely arranged though were the bodies of the few women. Stripped naked and placed on the tables as if they were some macabre decoration.
Their bodies were unmarked and if he did not know them to be dead, they would have almost passed for being asleep or unconscious. The sound of retching, thankfully, drew his attention elsewhere. A young man, skinny and blond was hunched over in a corner, spilling his guts out.
"That's what you get bringing in a civilian…" Dawlish muttered as he directed his friend toward the group of what was obviously Aurors near the counter.
One of the figures, a woman with pale hair noticed them. She stepped forward to greet him.
"You are Captain Shacklebolt?" her accent added a pleasing lilt to her English.
"Yes, and you are?" Shacklebolt shook her hand firmly.
"Schulz. Captain Schulz. I have heard much about you." Schulz offered a stiff smile.
"Well I am pleased to make your acquaintance." Shacklebolt nodded back, not offended by her cold demeanor.
"Yes, though the circumstances could be better." She answered darkly.
"Quite; care to tell me what happened?" the two moved towards the counter. Shacklebolt saw a man, his eyes torn out and his chest cut up. He had not had a pleasant death.
"We believe the killer you have been pursuing has struck again," she gestured towards the women. Some of the Aurors were conjuring large sheets and covering up the bodies.
"Though this level of brutality was never reported before." She frowned, her tone almost accusing.
"It is a first. Something must have changed. This," He gestured at the room in general. "Is not the work of a calm and precise killer. There is anger here, rage." Shacklebolt stared at one corpse, a girl in her teens, who seemed to be the centrepiece of this morbid art. He had a sneaking suspicion that her eyes were glassy long before she succumbed to death.
"Have you been able to get anything substantial?" he asked.
"They left very little traces of energy. Hopefully the samples our Physicians took will offer more insight." Schulz explained.
Shacklebolt nodded. Schulz gestured toward the young man who seemed to have finally gotten a hold of himself.
"Are you ready for another try Fritz?" she asked the civilian.
"You people are sick. How can you stand this?" the boy asked, his face green.
The German captain's whole demeanour changed, where she had been friendly but tense before, now she looked quite frightening. The woman glared at the boy and her presence seemed to swell, the lights flickered and heavy pressure bore down on the boy.
"Sick? Do you think this gives me pleasure, little boy?" Her voice was sickly sweet and cold. Fritz took a step back, eyes wide with fear. "We are all here, committed to catching the fiends who did such a heinous thing and you would dare besmirch our reputation?"
Fritz whimpered something out.
"Did you say something? Speak up!" she ordered.
"I said I was sorry!" he stuttered out.
"Good, you are sorry. Now you will take that stone and connect to it once more. You should be honoured that you can help bring these creatures to justice."
One of the other Aurors passed him a rough stone and he held it frightfully. Shaking, he stared at the captain. Feeling a moment of compassion Schulz stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on his slim shoulder.
She spoke low to him. "You can do this okay. Yes, it's hard but you have the strength to see it through. I trust that you can do it." Still looking hesitant but buoyed by the captain's words Fritz closed his eyes and concentrated on the stone.
"What is he doing?" whispered Shacklebolt shuffling closer to his counterpart. He stared as something seemed to happen to Fritz. He couldn't put it into words exactly but it was as if some part of the young man had left, his presence becoming muted.
"He is an empath – not particularly powerful, but he can connect to objects and view the events around them, if said events left a strong enough imprint." Schulz explained.
"Psychometry." Shacklebolt said in understanding. He noticed that Fritz had started muttering, too low for the two of them to hear but another Auror was beside the empath taking notes.
"How did he end up here? He doesn't have the disposition." Shacklebolt wondered.
"He tricked a shop owner into giving away his goods. The courts had him do community service." Schulz explained succinctly.
Shacklebolt nodded in understanding. He was about to ask something else when Fritz started screaming.
"No. No. NO. Not my Rosa!!" Fritz dropped the stone and began clawing at his clothes, his nails drawing blood.
"Shit. Restrain him!" Schulz ordered. Before she finished speaking, several wands snapped forward and ropes wound around Fritz form. The young man toppled over, still crying and mumbling.
"Shh, shh. Fritz come back. You're okay…" Schulz leaned forward and cradled his head. Her hands glowed softly and she run them over his face and temple, imbuing him with calm energy. A few tense moments later Fritz's eyes cleared up and he stared up at her.
"Hey you're okay." Schulz soothed, letting out a soft crooning sound.
"I saw them. They were there – just there, dying, right in front of me and I couldn't do a thing. There was so much blood, so much pain." Fritz gasped out, his voice turning hysterical.
Shacklebolt felt someone sidle up to him and found Dawlish looking pensive beside him. The two shared a knowing look before they turned back to the scene before them.
"What did you see Fritz? Tell me what did you see?" Schulz coaxed, her voice soft.
"I saw them…" Fritz's voice cracked at the edges, before turning dark. "Monsters. I saw those two monsters."
Schulz looked up at Shacklebolt and he nodded grimly; this was progress.
A/N: Phew that took a while, much longer than I expected to be honest. Life has the tendency to make plans go off road I think, so please excuse the delay. Plus, my muse kinda hated me for a while. I had the idea, I mean I have this whole story outlined (vaguely) but I would write and it would come out wrong. I deleted whole sections of the thing and rewrote it multiple times and took bits that fit and put them together and tried to make em seamless. I suppose that's enough of me making excuses.
If it wasn't clear from the start, then well you can tell I'm trying to expand the scope of the story. How much of the world it will encompass is still up in the air so let's hope I don't fudge that up. Someone please tell me what they think of Harry and Vernon's interaction, I don't want it coming across meh.
To Moon Pix in answer to your question about chapter 6 was it? Well Harry being a wizard has to go to Hogwarts at 11. So while he was ten and Dudley went off to school, he had a gap year of sorts, started a bunch of hobbies and stuff...that's my explanation hehehe
Anyway that's the chapter, hope you like it. Tell me what you think. Damn that's a long AN
Read. Enjoy. Review
Edited 23-05-2024