A/N:
Though this chapter is not yet entirely finished, I've come to a point in it where I can feasibly stop for a second or two, and let you read. Sorry for the long wait, but 'Life' and other things have meant that it's taken me quite some time to write this chapter. Thanks for all of the reviews and support everyone has given.
A special thank you must go to Leslie, whom this story is dedicated. Without her this chapter - this story - would not be possible. She is both my beta-reader, my Muse, Angel and Anam Cara.
Standard Disclaimer:
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books, and Warner Brothers, Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The only things owned by the author are any character's not previously mentioned in the Official Harry Potter books and the plot, all else are property of J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers Inc.
Chapter Seven - A Flame In Time
Whatever had possessed Harry to let Sirius (as Snuffles) join him for his first Care Of Magical Creatures lesson of the year he didn't know. It had all started out innocently enough, with Snuffles accompanying Harry, Ron and Hermione out towards Hagrid's hut, and the crowd of gathered students. Apparently there was some kind of demonstration, as many of the Gryffindor's emitted "oohs," and "ahh's," whilst the Slytherins remained unusually silent. The silence from them seemed almost audible. It was amazing how peaceful things could be when the Slytherins weren't talking.
As the Trio approached, with Snuffles, a majority of the Slytherins recoiled from the display they were hiding from view. The closer they neared, the more they realised what was happening.
As Draco Malfoy took another step backwards, he afforded Harry a view of a very familiar crimson-feathered bird. Fawkes the phoenix was singing. Professor Kim Ward was talking,
"Phoenix song is magical; perhaps you'd guessed that," she was saying. "The reason you Gryffindor's are cheering so much and feeling so overly happy is because Fawkes's voice has the ability to increase the courage in someone of pure heart and intentions.
However, while the lion-hearted among us seem to be enjoying this symphony (which I too am not immune) the sly, ambitious students among you appear to be fearful of it. It is true that while the song of a phoenix can increase courage and happiness within the pure of heart, the opposite can be said of those with hearts and minds impure."
"But, why does it do this Professor? Why?" whined a visibly paling Pansy Parkinson. Her voice, though high usually, held a quivering pitch to it.
"A valid question, Ms. Parkinson; one I'm afraid I cannot tell the answer to. Sadly, the mystery of phoenix song is as elusive as the city from whence they came…" the professor trailed off. Hermione's eyes had widened, and her mouth hung open, completing the look of a startled goldfish suffering from lockjaw.
"Great! First we have an incompetent oaf for a teacher who tries to kill us every lesson, and now his replacement doesn't even know anything about what she's supposed to be teaching!" snarled Draco, his pale, grey eyes glinting maliciously in the bright glare of the burning sun. Though autumn had officially arrived, it would be many weeks before the effects of the calmest season reached the Scottish Highlands this year.
Ward had barely parted her lips when Fawkes let loose a single shrill cry that pierced the tension (that had crept up slowly but surely) like a hot knife through melting butter. It appeared that the magnificent firebird had developed a spot of impatience to end the lesson, and a little anger towards certain students. He flashed a black gaze that drove a spike of fear into Draco's heart.
In that single instant, the walls…no, the fortress that entrapped Draco's heart fell down. Though the stare and song of the phoenix were not enough to melt the icy façade, they were enough to warm Draco to the core.
Something within him had broken; another twisted and turned before straightening, finally breathing new life, as if after being released from damnable torture.
The spell was burnt asunder through the magical effect of Fawkes' song.
The crowd of students had fallen back, away from the keen eye of the phoenix. Though it was known that no phoenix had ever attacked anything, much less a human, they were notoriously hard to tame, and as such, many feared the ethereal creatures.
It was at this point that Harry, Ron, Hermione and Snuffles finally stood before the lesson.
Fawkes, upon immediately sensing Harry's presence, flew towards him. While many others, including Gryffindor's, would have scampered away, Harry remained stock-still.
Professor Ward swiftly regained the use of her voice and in short order re-collected all the scattered students. Most were still rather wary of Fawkes, but, since he'd taken perch upon Harry's shoulder, they no longer overtly feared him. If Potter could stand to have a phoenix so close, then they mustn't be all that terrible. At least this was the Slytherin's viewpoint.
Draco Malfoy wisely kept his distance from Harry, and thus Fawkes. He was unsure of what had just happened to him, but he felt sure that something within him had been altered. It was both unsettling and uplifting. Despite his inner awakening, however, Draco's personality was far too deeply entrenched to flip within the space of a few minutes.
Throughout the remainder of the lesson, Draco kept glancing furtively towards Fawkes; the uneasy feeling of being watched pervaded him. Not once, however, when Draco looked at Fawkes, did the bird return the favour.
Professor Ward, after finally restoring some sort of order to the class, had continued the lesson with eager fervour. Many were impressed with her apparent knowledge, and as such, even the Slytherin's admitted that they'd learnt something.
In the last ten minutes or so of the lesson, something disastrous occurred. Snuffles, his tail taut, snout flaring, shot off in a blinding gallop through the students. Harry, busy keeping a close eye on his godfather, had set off after him shouting "Snuffles! Get back here!"
While Gryffindor's scrambled away from the illegal Animagi, the Slytherin's were less than fortunate (perhaps a deliberate intention of Snuffles). Pansy Parkinson fled the scene screaming blue murder, whilst Crabbe and Goyle repeated their usual stunt around Sirius: they ran headlong into each other, and were out cold within seconds.
Draco remained as cool-blooded as his namesake suggested. It marked a distinct difference in the young wizard's behaviour. He (along with Fawkes and Professor Ward) alone noticed the direction in which Snuffles was leading Harry: The Forbidden Forest.
Snuffles, meanwhile was racing along, hardly caring or noticing anything around him. His mind was focused solely on a single thought: 'I'll kill you. I'll Kill You. I'LL KILL YOU!"
His thoughts were perfectly understandable considering the repugnant creature he chased. There, ahead of him, darting through the bracken and the undergrowth…through the leaves and mulch…closer he came, his teeth within snarling distance, but not much more…
He ran at startling speed, his bounding gait almost too much for his godson to keep up with. Fortunately for Harry, the years of Quidditch had honed his leg muscles incredibly…or at least enough to keep him in a fit enough condition to run.
Deeper into black they ran; the tall, foreboding images of the trees blocking the blinding sun, pitching them into an eerie darkness, in the distance, the thunder of hooves could be heard, pounding mercilessly.
Harry was dimly aware of others following: Ron and Hermione most likely…there were more than just his two closest friends however. Professor Ward was also in as fit a state as Harry, for she was gradually gaining on the motley crew of Gryffindor's and fugitive. At the instant Snuffles reached an enclosed clearing, Ward rounded a rogue tree, and so too, entered the said clearing.
"Harry…Potter…would you please tell me the meaning of letting your dog loose in one of my lessons?" she panted.
Harry didn't reply, and with good reason. In the centre of the clearing stirred a tall, be-cloaked individual, features and wand masked masterfully. It couldn't be…could it?
"Voldemort!"
The whole dynamic of the situation changed, as panic spread through Ward, Hermione and especially Ron. Harry grew fearful but proved his instincts; with one deft movement his wand had been transferred from back pocket to hand.
Several things happened at once, others a few seconds later. A small, furtive rodent sped its way towards the cloaked figure, and upon reaching it (for as yet no-one could discern its gender) transformed from his Animagus form to that of a squat, balding, repulsive man known as Peter Pettigrew.
As the Potters' traitor returned to his natural form, the shrouded, mysterious entity drew its wand and took careful aim. Sirius too, appeared, and from a dark and often-used pocket, he retrieved a long, dark ebony wand.
"Stupefy!"
Wormtail ducked, narrowly avoiding the rain of claws as a shadowy creature intercepted the red light of the stunning spells. It found its feet immediately and focused on Sirius.
"Wraiths!" shrieked Professor Ward.
Within scant moments three blurry, hazy shapes had interposed themselves between Sirius, Professor Ward and the masked aggressor. The Wraith's, as Ward had called them, were more like monstrous realizations of your deepest, darkest primal nightmares than living, and all too real, magical creatures.
If smoke and shadow were solid and breathing, then Wraiths would be the very incarnation. Though not transparent Sirius could see the outline of Wormtail through the Wraith opposing him.
He was mightily distracted from his main quarry by the flash of bone-white, finger-length claws, and the blaze of novae bright, crimson, slit-like eyes.
~*~
Unbeknownst to all, a lone, silvery centaur watched the unfolding events with an ardent curiosity most often found in young children upon their first encounter with a puffskein. This particular centaur's name was C'Baoth, and, by his species' standards, he was tall and willowy. His pelt bore the pigment of an adolescent unicorn, his flowing beard as devoid of colour as the fur of a Demiguise.
Were it not for his eyes, and if it had been a snowy vista, C'Baoth would be indistinguishable. As said, however, his eyes were unmistakably vivid depictions of sapphires burning with a cool fire in the twilight of the Forest.
Searing all to memory, C'Baoth looked intently onwards; the Wraiths closed in on the cornered wizards.
~*~
In the midst of the confusion instigated by Harry's Godfather and his parents' betrayer, no one had witnessed the fiery disappearance of a certain phoenix. Within the time it takes for a Golden Snitch to escape ones pursuit, Fawkes had left the edge of the Forest and reappeared in Dumbledore's office.
A single billowy note informed the wizened headmaster of the events currently playing out not twelve dozen yards from the mortar wall's of Hagrid's Hut.
"Remus, I believe it prudent for you to meet with Harry once again," said Dumbledore, a hint of uncertainty glimmered for a split second in his eyes.
The younger man, robed in grey, silver creeping past his ears from his temples, nodded gravely.
~*~
Time, as it so often did, crept along like an assassin on his final exam. Now, some might not understand this analogy, so it's best to describe the steady crawl of moments as if time were racing a drunken snail. The snail quite obviously was winning.
The Wraiths were formidable opponents, and Sirius had to duck a speedy backhand at least once - from Professor Ward.
"Duck you idiot!"
Meanwhile, about six or eight yards away, a tree trembled. This was highly unusual, not least in the fact that this particular tree, being a simple oak, was in no way related to the Whomping Willow and should have remained, to a certain extent, stationary.
Similar in appearance to the masked figure, now facing off against the swiftest of the shadow creatures, a tallish image of a man stepped like a ghost from the height and safety of a drooping branch; his feet touched as lightly on the forest debris as a moonbeam on morning dew.
The slight motion sent a smattering of faint ripples athwart the body of his cloak, a cloak draped with aching purpose and precision across the broad torso of the man. The cloak released a pent-up breath, and slithered soundlessly to the ground.
~*~
Remus Lupin crossed the threshold of the Forest at a dead sprint. Body accustomed to a more graceful form of movement than many others, he all but soared over the muddy earth and decaying leaves. From what he had garnered from Fawkes' message, Harry and his friends were in very serious danger.
The Wraiths, though certainly eerie and ill-omened beings, were not the main focus of Remus's worry. He knew Kim Ward, if given enough time, would be able to deal with them - after all, she was a very talented witch, and knew her chosen field rather well indeed. Sirius, he knew, could undoubtedly handle himself, and many others, in a fight.
Hermione was a quick-witted student, and would almost surely discover the Wraiths' weakness prior to Ron and Harry. Ron… Remus willed his feet to travel faster, if only to find Ron, and escape the definite wrath of Molly if anything occurred to her youngest son.
Harry - the boy had been through so much already… was Fate focusing on him too intently? Remus knew not the workings of that capricious of mistresses, but he was quite capable of recalling Harry's prowess at defensive (and offensive) magic. The son of his dearly departed friends would endure until at least before the O.W.L's, of that Remus was confident.
What bothered Remus about the circumstances was that if he knew Peter half as well as he thought he did, it would be a cert that the turncoat would not be alone, or for very long. Voldemort would never send Wormtail anywhere without also providing (quite necessary) assistance.
~*~
Draco Malfoy arrived in that glen, in that glade, almost tripping over the gnarled root of a beech, in time to see the raging battle among what common sense (after over-ruling the other five) told him were figments of his imagination and his mortal enemies.
Thus, distracted as he was by the intense struggle between man and beast, he did not notice the creeping shadow of inky blackness slither its way ravenously towards the closest prey. It just happened that Draco was to be the unwitting first victim.
Hermione Granger, eyes as keen as a hawk's, shook with what could either be dread or a kind of vivid courage. Despite reacting faster than a Golden Snidget, she reached Draco almost too late.
I shall not go into the ache and agony Draco suffered whilst languidly being smothered by the Living Shroud, for it was very brief and ended long before the end of this snippet.
Hermione's Patronus had grappled with the Lethifold, and was gaily chasing it this way and that. Had the two manifestations of Light and Dark been but a tad different, they would have resembled a small, but vicious terrier snapping at the quickly escaping heels of a tabby.
No amount of fancy literature could change the fact that the two were in all accuracy a silver otter bouncing along after a wave of wafer-thin obscurity.
Harry and Ron were left to face Wormtail alone.
Would the squirmy rodent escape their grasp once more? Would Sirius and Professor Ward be victorious over their assailants? What would the mysterious figure, which Harry had believed to be Voldemort, do next after the inevitable defeat of the Wraiths?
Most importantly, would they notice the strange man who boldly strode towards them?
~*~
This was Ron's chance; the perfect opportunity to capture Wormtail and, by doing so, proving his worth and achieving place as a famous wizard. If he could just stun Wormtail, and then bring him to Professor Dumbledore… he'd be the one to clear Sirius' name… he'd be the one people looked upon as the one who returned an innocent man to the world… as the one who had captured You-Know-Who's right hand man… proof that Harry had not been lying, or mad, those short months past…
He often felt overlooked when in Harry and Hermione's company; who would notice "just another Weasley," when the brightest witch Hogwarts - no, the world, had ever seen, and The-Boy-Who-Lived were such prominent figures? It was his time to step out from their collective shadows, stand out from the crowd. Even Ginny, he felt, had more fame and respect than he.
His fear of the situation momentarily lain aside in the flood of possible futures, Ron scurried towards Wormtail, with the intention of using surprise to bowl him over, and so gain the upper hand. He leapt upon the unsuspecting wizard with a ferocity borne of countless years unknowing of "Scabbers's" true identity. Sleeping with a rat that turned out to be a disreputable man could do dangerous things to the mind of a fifteen-year old boy.
Harry hung back, somehow sensing, though not comprehending fully what it was his friend had to do.
In the ever-changing whirlwind of moving bodies and blinding spell-lights, Harry stood as if he were the eye of a storm. To his left he could see Hermione extending a timid hand for Draco to take. A surge of emotions ripped through him at the thought of Draco touching his Hermione… Just when did she become his Hermione? What made him think- diving just in time, he avoided falling victim to a vicious swipe. What were these creatures? Why were they attacking and most importantly, why were there only three of them?
Sirius was having similar questions and doubts, though, luckily for him, fighting off one of the beasts prevented his detective instincts from kicking in. He simply wanted the Wraith to be someplace else, preferably as far from life as possible. He spared a glance at Professor Ward; her Wraith was slowly wilting under the force of a barrage of unusual spells. Her lips were little more than thin scars marking her face, and there was no mistaking the look of complete concentration and focus in her jaw and eyes.
Despite almost slipping on a loose patch of damp soil, an image of Kim Ward from score and four years previous gracefully waltzed into his thoughts. In his minds-eye, Sirius could see her precious eyes, sweet as dark chocolate; her lustrous hair he could once more feel in his fingertips…
…This was not the best of times to mourn memories of a happier existence. This was a time for surviving, for winning, and he'd be damned if a shadow would be the death of Sirius Black.
Harry, meanwhile, sent curse after hex at any Wraith that came too close for comfort. The spells barely slowed them down, but most did deter them slightly, allowing one of the adults to regain their crimson attention.
Something didn't feel quite right. Harry's back squirmed as if a thousand hungry eyes were fixing him in their ravenous gaze. It wasn't so much the thought of the eyes themselves, but rather what they belonged to that made his stomach leave its usual place and hide somewhere in his throat.
Feet rooted to the spot, he span around on the loose undergrowth but could see nothing save for trees and a darkness caused by the sun's rays purposely taking a wide detour around the canopy.
The hand that gripped his shoulder like a vice he noticed was not particularly spider-like, as he'd feared it might be. Nor was there any blinding, searing pain in his scar. A voice whispered words of sound advice Harry couldn't help but follow. The man he had first believed to be Voldemort had dispatched with the Wraith he'd been battling.
The other masked figure chose that instant to make his move. From a detached perspective enjoyed by owls and dust motes, it is possible to see, or at least glimpse, at the detailed strategy that had been put into effect. This strange man had tactics, and had set up an elaborate game of chess; his ultimate goal was checkmate, with Harry as the fallen king.
Fortunately there were not one but three masters of that noble pastime in the Forest that day. One had been mentioned, another grappled with Wormtail and the third stood like a human shield before Harry. The dark knight had been played and now it was the turn of the white rook.
Behind Harry and his protector, the voice of Sirius called out, "Bout time you made it here, Moony. You've missed most of the fun." With one final blast from his wand, the Wraith that had focused its slit-like gaze upon him caught the hint and sped quickly in the opposing direction. In seconds it had been lost to the shadowy realms between the tall trees.
The balance of power had shifted - no longer were the odds stacked heavily against Harry and his friends. Only Wormtail, the black knight and the final- no, Ward had now defeated her adversary, for it lay withered and crumpled at her feet.
Just as Ron believed Wormtail to be subdued, just as Ron's wand readied to aim the stunning spell, Wormtail transformed and flew for the edge of the clearing. Hermione, and Draco (now semi-recovered from his ordeal), chased after him. Ron, his longer stride serving him well, joined the rat-chase.
Now was the time for the Queen's Gambit. The Lethifold, thought defeated by Hermione's Patronus, reappeared and caught Sirius off-guard. Both Lupin and Ward instantly let loose their guardians, freeing Sirius, and killing the Living Shroud.
This sacrifice, this distraction, was all that was needed.
Harry felt himself lift from the ground as if caught in some invisible giant's hand.
Curses and such whipped cross the clearing; vermilion and verdant light splintered aged bark. Faster than the speed of sight, the two masked men fought. It was clearly evident one was going to lose, sooner or later.
The stronger of the two combatants neatly sidestepped a stunning spell, which instead caught Kim Ward full in the chest; Sirius whisked her off to edge of the glade, in his arms.
Even as Lupin entered the fray, Harry realised that this was not a fight they would win. Steeling himself, he tried to move his wand-arm and found, quite surprisingly, little resistance. Carefully aiming, Harry summoned the dark man's wand. Unfortunately, the forest floor wasn't the softest of surfaces - he'd be nursing a nasty bruise for a good few weeks.
Without apparent defences, the dark man appeared to flee; Harry had never seen a diversionary technique work so well away from broomsticks. In one swift motion, the wand in Harry's hand went sailing from his grasp, and the forest rang from the force of the 'BANG!' marking a Disapparation. Or, rather, what they all thought to be one - in actual fact, Wormtail had just Apparated to his friend's side.
Lupin, Harry and his brief protector, all scrambled towards the centre of the clearing, all trying to aim impediment jinxes and stunning spells at the balding man and his tall friend. The air, still bearing the brunt of a warm summer, crackled and twanged and there came a heavy taste of tin.
Suddenly, as the trio of wizards came within a dozen feet, beams of blue light lanced out from the dark man's fingertips, bathing them all in an eerie twilight far removed from the thin, wispy sunlight that filtered down through thick leaves. The streams of blue light were misty and actinic; the sort of light a blue moon often cast on foggy nights and windswept moors.
Harry's hair leapt even further from his head so that he looked like an ambulant, black dandelion. Writhing firesnakes of magic crackled across his skin as he stepped nearer to the centre of the maelstrom.
Against the indigo backdrop, brown and black shapes briefly formed pools of darkness, before the blue light, shapes, and the dark man all vanished in a silent explosion.
~*~
A/N
More soon…