Chapter 8
The moment had come, just as Tobias had predicted. Hermione had her chance to save Harry and did so with great valor. Now, surrounded by the enemy her time to leave this world stared straight into her face. She had no time to react, but her mind was racing with thoughts. She had many questions, like how was Harry going to survive this terrible ordeal. Questions like, how will she ever get to know how Harry really feels deep inside. Questions like, what kinds of things would she have gotten to accomplish in her life. Questions like, does it hurt when you die?
A strange green brilliance lit up everything around her. Then she was falling to the floor and everything quickly faded to black. Just before all things fell into the vacuum of death, she caught Harry's eyes. His face was more deeply troubled than she had ever seen before. All the color had left his skin and he was standing there like a pale ghost in the darkness. She could see what she had always wanted to see for herself staring back at her. Eyes that cared so deeply for her, that friendship was merely a spring rain falling into the deepest ocean. If it was not love in his eyes, then it was nothing short of absolute devotion. It was enough, and then her life fluttered and without warning gave out.
Neville looked down at Hermione and then up at Harry. He reached down and grabbed her wrist. In spite of everything, he stayed there holding it ever so carefully. Then after eternity had come and went, he felt it. The tiniest pulse, the faintest heart beat. She was alive, he quickly explained to Harry that she was still with them. Then, for the first time, Neville saw something in Harry's gaze. It was not relief that a friend had barely survived death. No, it was a dizzying and endless gratitude to discover that an extension of his own being was still there and if all was right in the world, that he would be reunited with what mattered most to him. Neville knew that look. It was the same look he knew he had in his own eyes when he would visit his parents. That ferocity that only comes with the fiery hope that if goodness were somehow to prevail, then those we need and love the most would be by our side again. At that moment he knew two things beyond a shadow of any doubt. One, they were going to survive this nightmare and two, that one day his parents would look at him and see their son and know him. He would have wept, if only the enemy was not upon them.
--- ---
Augustus, with his wand held out, was on the hunt. He was locked in a pathetic battle against mere children, but his mind was latched on to a different thought. He was also desperately trying to find the whereabouts of the fools of Emeric and the chest that his Lord had 'suggested' he find. Therein lay a suggestion as forceful as the most basic laws of physics. It was not to be questioned, merely accepted as lawful fact.
He ran through hallways and somehow would always wind up running into one or more of the children, or his fellow death-eaters. He was beginning to panic and he tried to keep his focus sharp. The chest was here, it was merely a matter of finding it before the Circle was able to get their claws on his nephew, and get him to do whatever it is they thought he could do for them.
He felt a sensation that he knew all too well. The presence of He-who-must-not-be-named was very close. His Lord had finally entered the fray. The thought of what dire punishment was going to be doled out to the little weasel Potter, made him crack an evil grin. Then he began to think of what punishment would be weighed on him if he were to fail. Voldemort wanted the chest, perhaps even more than he wanted the prophecy. To fail him would be a final act indeed.
--- ---
Gevin was running blindly. Something was going on here and it was much greater than a Knockturn alley rogue looking for his dark haired love. He had expected only to find the Circle, in spite of the warning from Hogwarts. He tried his best to remain hidden from the death-eaters. It was highly likely that his Uncle was amongst them and to run into him could spell disaster. He was unprepared to face him.
Then, pressed into ducking through a small hallway, he came out into a strange round room. There were only two things in the room and they were both what he had come here for. Lying on the ground with her hands gently crossed across her stomach was Ellie. A mere footstep away was the black chest and its fuming chimney of smoke. He stopped, well aware that this was nothing short of a trap. What he did not know was what would set it off, or what its purpose might be.
He looked around and after feeling relatively sure the room was empty aside from what was in front of him, he stepped in. Nothing happened, whatever the trap was it had yet to surface. He dashed forward and fell to his knees beside the still figure of his Ellie. He quickly glanced at the chest and noting the protective rune was still in place, he looked back at her.
He gently pressed his fingers onto her throat and immediately felt a steady pulse. A wave of relief swept over his entire being. She was still alive; he had not arrived too late. He brushed the hair from her face and gently touched her forehead with his palm. He gently slid his hand down to her cheek and whispered to her that he had come for her.
After a moment her eyelashes fluttered. Then her large eyes opened and looked up at him. She smiled weakly and lifted her hand to his chest and rested it there.
"I knew you would come. Thank you my love."
His chest felt tight and his eyes began to mist over.
"I'm so sorry this happened to you Ellie. Don't worry, all of this will be over soon."
She took her other arm and wrapped it around the back of Gevin's neck. She then pulled herself up to him and placed her lips onto his. She gently rocked herself against him and pressed her lips with a fierceness. Gevin felt his whole person just meld into hers. He gave in to what he had wanted to do for so long and began to embrace her. She felt so warm and full of life. A long dormant need for affection arose in him. Their kiss had become intense and passionate. She pressed herself tightly against his chest and he felt how soft she was and how overwhelming the sensation of her breasts pressed into him felt.
He pulled away from her and there in her eyes was an almost inhuman desire. He felt like if he let her she would swallow him and keep him inside of her forever. For a brief moment he wanted that more than anything. Then cold reality set in. They were still in the ministry building, the chest was still whole, and two dark armies were so close that surely there was no way out but death.
"I have to destroy the chest, Ellie. We have so little time."
Her face looked troubled.
"But Gevin? You can't destroy the chest, not until you use it to fix the damage that has been done. If you don't do that first then all is lost."
"What are you talking about?" Gevin asked with surprise in his voice.
"The Circle of Emeric cast a spell that has already been set in motion. The spell was cast long ago, but lacked one thing. They now have that item in their possession and have already finished the ritual. They found a spell that will enable them to all become Animagus. And not just any kind, but each one of them will be able to transform into an adult dragon. We must find the wizard who started the spell long ago and apparate him here, so you can destroy him. Then we can destroy the chest and everything will be right again. Please Gevin, we have to hurry."
Gevin looked at Ellie and then at the chest. Animagus dragons he thought. The Circle would become a thousand times more dangerous then they already were. Not even if all the wizards in the ministry stood together, would they be able to fend off a horde of spell-casting dragons. That spelled apocalyptic disaster for every last wizard and muggle. He had to stop them, and it had to happen here and now.
"Thank goodness you're here Ellie. If I hadn't known then I can't even imagine what might happen. Who is the wizard we need to kill?"
"We have to bring Emeric himself here; he's the one ultimately behind it all."
"How are we going to bring him here?"
"You can do it Gevin. I heard them saying that the chest can look back in time. You will need to drain some of your blood into it and then you will be able to save us all."
Gevin looked at Ellie and she was looking at him. Her whole body seemed to shiver with desire. Her chest was heaving and her eyes practically screamed for him to take her right then and there. He shook his head, he had to stay focused. He had to undo the spell that Emeric had cast in the far past. Ellie's hand slid down onto Gevin's leg.
"I want you," she said with a false innocence.
"I want you too," his voice replied thickly.
He turned to the chest and suddenly realized the awful truth.
"Ellie. I was never able to find out how to open the chest. Tobias is dead and so he can't tell me. I have no idea whatsoever, of how to open the thing."
Ellie coyly smiled and replied, "It's okay Gevin. I've heard everything those evil wizards have been saying. I know exactly what to do. I'll tell you and all you have to do is follow along."
"Okay," he replied pulling out his wand. "I'm ready. What's the first step?"
--- ---
Vilavarg stood deathly still. The room was part of an elaborate illusion. It appeared small to Gevin, but the back wall was not truly there. Two dozen wizards watched with darkened gazes. Each with their wand held at the ready. If anything were to go wrong, curses would rush forth unhindered into Gevin's body.
His black cloak was wrapped tightly against him. Many things had happened since he first slipped into Gevin's shabby room at the Knockturn Inn. So far, everything had gone exactly as he had anticipated. It was as if the strings of fate were tuned to perfection in his favor. His Master would be quite pleased indeed. Once brought into this time, he would once again resume his reign of evil. He would no longer be a footnote in the history books, but a living breathing ruler that would have the people of this world redefining the term tyrant. As the one who restored him, Vilavarg would be made Emeric's general. His darkest desire to crush the wills of a world that he feels forsook him, would soon become a painful reality. He smiled in spite of himself.
The only wizard who could possibly pose a threat was going to be entangled with that upstart so called 'Lord' Voldemort. Once Emeric was with his followers, he would crush Voldemort and his pathetic death-eaters. One thing the girl got right, was that indeed Emeric had the knowledge of bending the animagus transformation to the will of the wizard. All that was needed was the right artifact to channel the change into a specific form. Inside of his cloak he had the obsidian dragon eye that he spent his entire life searching for. There would be no stopping the Circle. Their power would be endless.
He watched as Gevin tried to fight off the advances of the girl to concentrate on what he thought needed to be done. She needed little nudging to bring out the drive in her. She already had strong feelings for the boy. She practically jumped at the opportunity to serve the Imperius Curse when it came to affection for Gevin. Which only further proved to Vilavarg what love truly was; just another weapon to be used in the search for dominance and power. Here it served his need all too well.
--- ---
The Order of the Phoenix had arrived. Dumbledore led them through the corridors of the Ministry of Magic. He knew exactly where the prophecy was and had no doubts what he would find when he arrived there. His only worry was poor Gevin and the young daughter of Borgin. They were in dire need as well, but he simply could not be in two places at once. He had no choice but to protect Harry from the enemy that had taken so much from the wizards of this age. In the end, depending on how the followers of Emeric fared, it might be one war ended only to start a new and far more dangerous one.
So little was known about Emeric, as his life began before even wizards kept accurate historical records. If only he could figure what this evil Circle brought to the table, he could be better prepared for that fight, but he had no idea of what kind of power Emeric had at his command. He held fast to the hope that Gevin would prevail. The boy had an excellent head on his shoulders. He deeply regretted that he was not able to convince him to attend Hogwarts. He had no doubt that he would have become an astute student and an asset to the school. However, that chance was lost long ago. He regretted few things as much as he regretted that terrible moment.
He stared ahead and tried to put those thoughts away for now. He could sense that Voldemort was already here and if he did not act quickly, young Harry Potter would be in grave danger. Dumbledore knew the prophecy, and knew what it meant. If Harry were to die, then the war was already over and the Order of the Phoenix would be made instantly powerless. The Dark Lord would become nearly immortal and verifiably invincible. That could not be allowed, he thought grimly.
As he turned the corner he remembered the old round room. No one went there anymore, but it was often used by the Aurors when they performed some of their darkest work. There were things the ministry had done in the past that Albus was far from proud of and he desperately wished he could have changed. The room was just ahead, so he thought it might be prudent to look inside and see if anything was happening there.
He stopped in his tracks and saw what he feared he might. There was Gevin kneeling beside the chest and at his side was the young woman. She had survived, and for that Dumbledore was very grateful. He saw beyond the false wall and looked across at the crazed wizards lying in wait. The moment was at hand. He had to choose between Harry and Gevin. His allegiance to Harry was in no way questioned, but he also knew the terrible debt that was owed to Gevin. He had hopes that at the end of it all, if the side of good were to be victorious, that he would sit with him and explain everything. Gevin had a right to know what had happened that night. If only he could have been there a moment sooner he could have averted that awful tragedy.
"They are so much alike," he muttered to himself. "They have the same past and many of the same qualities. Perhaps if Harry had not come to Hogwarts and had not been taken under his wing, he would have become the young man before him that stood in the most dangerous position that he could ever have imagined."
"Dumbledore," Tonks cried. "We have no time to lose. Harry is standing before You-know-who right now. He needs you!"
Albus closed his eyes and then after the briefest moment, smiled strangely.
"Dearest Tonks, I just remembered something that has never even happened. Don't you find that quite odd?"
There was almost a joyful sound in his tone.
"I beg your pardon?"
"It would take too long to explain. Suffice it to say that our worries lie with Harry right now. Quickly, we must fly."
"That's what I just said," Tonks replied with exasperation.
They ran up aways and turned to the opposite end of the long hall. A door stood between him and Harry. With a wave of his wand they burst through that door. Time was short, but he knew that Harry could still be saved. His face grew angry and he took a step forward towards his enemy.
--- ---
"Do you love me?"
"Yes, of course I do," he said off-handedly as he examined the death rune more closely.
"Gevin?" she said with deep earnest. "Do you love me?"
Gevin turned to Ellie and saw the longing in her face.
"Yes Ellie, I do love you. I'll always love you."
"Then trust me. I would not ask you to do this if I thought you were going to get hurt in anyway."
Gevin stared into her eyes and saw nothing but sweet adoration. He had craved that look all of his life. He wanted above all other things, to be needed; wanted; loved. He turned back to the chest and, with the knowledge his Uncle taught him, cast the spell to create a portkey and placed it directly over the rune. The portkey was to send the one who touched it directly to the chest. So, in essence, they would not go anywhere.
He fearfully touched the rune and to his immense relief the spell had worked. Ellie had overheard the wizards correctly. He was not turned into a small puddle of goo and that thought brought him an immediate sense of relief. He quickly smiled at Ellie and then reached out his hand and slowly lifted the lid of the chest.
Inside was a silvery vortex. It spun almost maddeningly around in a whirl of dark energy. He thought for a moment of Tobias and where he might be right now. An image of a small, but quiet graveyard on the very edge of the grounds of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had no idea there was even a cemetery there, but he guessed it was for those rare times when a person died at the school and had no where else to be laid to rest. He promised himself he would visit there as soon as he could.
This time he thought of his Uncle. An image of a dark room came to rest in the vortex. There was a cacophony of wizards throwing desperate spells at one another. Some kind of battle was occurring, but he could not make out what was exactly happening. His mind began to wander even more and a myriad of visions danced from one place or thing to another. It was difficult to look at and it made his eyes feel strained.
A warm hand touched the back of his neck and delicate fingers ran through his hair.
"Concentrate on Emeric my love. You must undo his madness."
"You're right, of course," he replied.
He turned to Ellie and a million different feelings swept through him. He was not sure whether to laugh or to cry or to scream or all of them at once. All these emotions were overwhelming. He could barely keep his wits about him. Then the gravity of what was happening pulled him back down to earth.
Memories of his mother and father, lost to him so long ago. Memories of his Uncle raising him in a cold and emotionless home filled with subtle bitterness. Memories of the open hatred of the world of Diagon Alley, and memories of open hostility in the world of Knockturn Alley. Memories of Jacob Gilpin's death. Memories of fending off the grendel hag. Memories of the years of friendship with Tobias now lost to him. Memories of all these things surrounded him and left him deeply weary.
"Where can I find the strength?" he pleaded. "How can I keep going on like this? I don't want to run anymore. I don't want to hide anymore. I want to walk out into the world, like I belong in it."
Ellie looked at him and said nothing. She was given no instructions on how to handle an outburst like that. So, she simply sat still.
Gevin placed his face close to the whirlwind inside the dark box. He concentrated with all of his might. His left hand reached up and grasped the small cube on his neck, which Borgin had given him. He hoped that it really would bring him so luck in this forsaken room. His right hand was firmly grasping his wand. The smoke began to billow out in all sorts of strange colors. The past and the present were melting into each other inside the chest. Gevin felt a strange pull from the vortex and could sense that the dark magic was now operating on an entirely new level.
There within the past was what Gevin sought. The wizard was there as Ellie had told him. So much was riding on getting this right. It looked as if the wizard were casting some strange spell before him. He thought this must be what started this whole chain of events. He would not allow the followers of a madman succeed. He would bring the wizard to the present and before anything could be done about it, he would take control of the moment and end this insanity. He let go of the cube and reached into his pocket. He used his wand to transfigure some lent that he had found there. Suddenly a small knife was in his hand. He took it and placed it over his wrist. He held his arm out over the chest and with one quick move, sliced into his arm. He winced from the pain, but kept his whole body rigid. Then drops of his blood began to pour into the silvery darkness. A sound of metal grating against stone could be heard throughout the room. The past and the present were no longer fighting and suddenly the storm inside the chest abruptly halted. The image became as lucid as the reflection in a still pond. Only tiny ripples were cascading through the wisps inside. Gevin stood up and with a perfect motion he apparated the wizard into the room.
The illusionary wall behind the room fell away and the followers of Emeric ran forward to fall to their knees.
"I AM VICTORIUS!" cried Vilavarg.