Part of this is stolen shamelessly from the Dark Wing/Dark Path series by Walter H. Hunt. Yes, I am stealing sci-fi to fuel a fantasy story. Anyway, hope you like it and please read and review.
They packed without any sort of structure to their actions. It was as if they had been torn away from normality and thrown back into the frantic scramble of the last war. Luckily for them, the habit of always being ready to move, no matter what the circumstances had endured. Clothes, books and the few mementos they had were jammed into a much battered travelling bag. It had seen better days but some of the bead-work on it was still visible. Regardless of its looks, the holding spell Hermione had cast on it had held for all these years and she always kept a few essentials inside it in case they had to move like this. Now all those old instincts were paying off. Their packing was finished within ten minutes of Velius's message. Hermione was still fretting about what he had said about her being a "Dream-Seer" and even more about the word he had used to describe what had killed him, a mage. There was an explanation in one of her books but Harry had pried the book gently out of her grasp before she could get further than opening it and told her in no uncertain terms that they could read up on their new enemy when they were safe, or at least safer.
She had relented at that and the book had gone into the bag with the rest of their essentials. They hastily dressed as they packed, doing most of the packing half naked, much to her discomfort (it was cold in the mornings). But they were ready now. She fastened the bag around her waist with the strap she had made after the original one wore out. Harry held up his Firebolt and then shook his head.
"Considering that whatever is coming for us could hit an owl in flight I don't think flying is the way to go." He said before gently lowering the broomstick into the bag. He took her hand. "Where do we go?"
"One of the old safe-houses I think. They've been kept stocked and we might be able to put together a reasonable plan from there." She replied and his heart swelled as he saw his Hermione in the pale face at his side.
"Number 12?"
"No, to obvious to whatever is following us. Dalai" The both looked around one last time at the place they had made their home for the past fifteen years. There was a sudden explosion of light visible through the window. "Good God! She's here already. Those are the wards!" Hermione cried.
"Hold on `Mione, here we go."
There was a crack and the couple vanished, and not a moment too soon either. Another explosion of light swept over the house and then a bolt of golden fire came slamming through the window they had been standing in front of only seconds before. Bolt after bolt slammed into the stone building, reducing it to rubble as their attacker smashed away her rage on it. She knew she had lost her prey, but they would have no home to come back to after this was done. She drew from her pocket a tarnished silver stiletto and sliced it unerringly across her hand. Blood welled up from the wound, a vivid contrast to her pale skin and she tossed it into the air as her other hand gestured. A milky-white tornado caught the liquid before it fell and turned to the dark colour of dried blood. Sparkling red and silver, the whirlwind dropped into the crater the fire-bolts had made and the house started to disintegrate. And more than that, the ground around it seem to wither as the mage wind cleanly erased all signs of civilisation. The woman's hood fell back and her silver hair streamed back in the wind as she called the power back to her. The damage now done, she sealed her wound and vanished in a flicker of silver.
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The old building had stayed uninhabited since the end of the War, a testament to the strength of the Order. Its halls had sheltered many of the Resistance as they had scattered across the country and had never once been found. It was protected by a variation of the Fidelius Charm that no-one understood. This house `knew' who it should protect and would not allow anyone else in. It was as if the wizard who had cast the spell had keyed the wards to shield any force of good from danger. Now it felt a familiar presence hurtling towards its wards and the old, old magic that had created it reawakened from slumber.
They appeared in the hall of the House, Harry being supported by Hermione.
"Gods, I need to get more practice in long range Apparition," he gasped out, leaning heavily on Hermione. "It never used to take this much out of me." They staggered into the sitting room of the House and collapsed onto the plush sofa that - Hermione was sure - had been several chairs the last time they had been here. She said as much to her partner. "'Mione, I'm not really in a state to listen about the House's abnormalities." Harry replied wearily, "We all know it's strange and effectively alive with magic so I see no reason that it can't play with its own furniture. Anyway, what was that thing you wanted to look up?"
"Are you sure we'll be safe here?" She replied cautiously.
"If we aren't the House will tell us before whatever she is gets here."
"Fair enough." Hermione pointed her wand into the bag and a book shot out into her hand. Harry recognized this one, it was at least a thousand years old - one of the oldest books she had - and she had got it only a few weeks ago. It had lost its cover but the rest of it was in surprisingly good condition for a book of that age and she leafed through it quickly. "There we are, I knew this book had something on mages." She said, pointing triumphantly at one of the chapter headings. The chapter was entitled "The History of the Magewars" and at that Harry stiffened slightly.
"That name sounds a bit ominous to me, love." He said gently as she started to read.
"Shh!" She hushed with a grin. "Go find some food, I have a feeling this is going to be an all-nighter."
"Sure, send the man out to cook." He mock-snapped as he heaved himself out of the sofa and walked through into the kitchen. As usual, the House had everything he needed to make a meal and he set to the task easily.
He walked back into the room were he had left Hermione half an hour later with a simple meal of pasta and etched a bow.
"Milady's dinner is served." He announced mischievously and she flapped her hands towards the small table in front of the sofa. He placed the tray on the aforementioned table and gave her a quick kiss. "Find anything?"
"Quite a bit actually and not much of it good I'm afraid." She replied as she dug into the pasta. Harry motioned for her to continue as he chewed. "According to this," she indicated the book, "there was a series of wars around two thousand years ago. Magical wars between what we know as wizards and a…I guess the best term for it would be a `splinter group' of the old magical community. These people were probably the first to understand non-vocal magic. Then, things get fuzzy. According to the book, after teaching most of the wizarding world silent magic, this group started working on wand-less magic. They succeeded too," She saw him open his mouth in exclamation and held up her hand. "Let me finish, you need to know the rest of this story. They apparently started using wand-less magic about two decades after silent magic became common. That's incredibly fast compared to how long it took them to figure out silent magic. Also, they refused to tell anyone how they did it, so the wizarding council sent a group to investigate. One person, out of a group of twenty, made it back to the council and her message terrified and disgusted them. The Varnel - that was the name of the splinter-group - used blood to perform wand-less magic." Harry's face paled at that statement and she nodded grimly. "Human blood, Harry, their own but preferably that of others."
"So there was a war after that?" He whispered aghast, all thoughts of meal forgotten.
"Yes. A massive war. I only read a few pages before I couldn't read anymore - I was too sickened by what I read - but apparently the Varnel held off concerted attacks by most of the wizarding world. A single one of their mages - they thought the title of wizard below them - is recorded to have beaten back an assault by over twenty highly trained combat wizards."
"So why didn't they win? They had all those advantages."
"In a way they did win. The Council couldn't defeat the Varnel, they tried over and over again but at each attempt they met failure. So they did the unthinkable. They took an entire country, tore it loose from this world and threw it at another. Then they erased all memory of the war. All the books, all the knowledge. They obliviated anyone who refused to take an Unbreakable Vow to hide the truth. But the person who wrote this book seems to have been one of the Council. He managed to hide this book - and a few others - from the rest of his peers. He wanted the truth to be found again because he had been the person who created the spell that banished the Varnel. Because of this, he knew that if the world they choose threw the Varnel away from them, like they had done, they would return to their proper place in our world. He didn't know how long it would take, but he was also quite sure that the Varnel would figure out a way to reverse the spell."
"So he hid these books to warn us?" Harry asked incredulously. "He planned that far ahead?"
"It seems so. I still don't now why we're important though. I've found nothing that indicates the need of a particular person to reverse the spell. But then again, some people liked the Varnel and might have wanted to reverse the spell themselves. I'll keep looking, but I doubt that I'll find any mention of how the spell worked."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Harry questioned quickly. He knew his skills lay mostly in other areas but he could try.
"I guess you could have a quick look at the book I got with this one." Hermione pointed her wand again into the bag and plucked another book from the air. "Here. And Harry," she said, handing the book to him, "thanks." He smiled gently at her and pulled her to him into one of their indescribable embraces.
"Don't worry. We'll find out what this thing does and how it does it. Barring anything else, at least I'll have a better knowledge of history." He quipped, remembering their many recurring arguments over when he was going to learn about magical history and was rewarded with a tremulous smile. "Now let's work out a way to beat this thing." They released each other and turned to their books, a bit more confidence in their faces. At least now they knew what their enemy was.
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She waited, poised on the edge of infinity, encased within a silver eggshell. Colours swirled below her and she raised her hand. Her knife sliced through it, sending a swirl of crimson into the void below and they formed around her, red, blue, orange, yellow, green and violet. She held as all the colours of the rainbow swirled around her shield.
"How goes the work?" The violet said.
"I lost them at their home," the colours turned darker, "but I've found them again." she hastened to add. "They're hiding in one of our old strongholds." As she said that, the colours turned darker still and she seemed to hear laughter. Not clear, happy laughter but the laughter of a hunter whose prey is now cornered.
"We shall…re-adjust the Home to our presence" stated the red.
"They shall be unaware of your approach." chimed the orange
"Their wands will be `misplaced'."
"You shall sweep down upon their unprepared and unarmed bodies and take what is ours from them." The blue uttered. Their voices sounded as one, like six bells in discord.
"Take what is ours! Bring back what is ours and we shall return to wreak our destruction upon an unprepared world. Bring us back!" Their tones swirled together like the rainbow they represented and light exploded around her as the colours merged. She cried out, covering her eyes from the glare and when her eyes cleared she was alone again.
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