The Enemy of My Enemy Chapter 15
Authors note: A shorter chapter this time, but I kind of wanted it on its own. Be warned - there are some bloody bits! Hope you guys like it! Oh, and if you haven't please read my new fic! Revenge is Dish Best Served Nude.
Disclaimer: Blah, blah, yadda yadda. I don't own Harry Potter
The Enemy of My Enemy Chapter 15
As Harry got into bed that night he had an odd feeling of unease that he couldn't place. Tossing and turning, Harry eventually fell into a restless sleep full of strange dreams...
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Harry stood on the banks of a vast lake, the waters dark against a blood red sky. As he looked across the still surface he saw a fast flowing stream running down a steep mountain slope and feeding the lake. He knew without question, and with the certainty only found in some dreams, that whatever the source of this stream was in turn the source of the entire lake.
Without consciously moving, Harry found himself following the steam, flying high above it. As his bodiless dream self cleared the peak of the mountain the landscape transformed itself into a open plain, devoid on any life or features, save the ever flowing stream. Across this barren waste he sped, mile after mile, until eventually far in the distance he began to make out movement. As he got closer he saw that it was an army, an army greater in number than he could comprehend following the path of the stream.
Closer still he flew, and saw that he had been wrong. They did not follow the stream at all, it flowed out from them. With this realisation the view changed again and Harry found himself among the throng, no longer flying but marching with them. As he looked about him, he saw for the first time that the army was made up entirely of women and children, all dressed in dusty black gowns and suits. And they were weeping, each and every one them. Tears ran freely from them all, their eyes red and puffy, their faces distorted in grief.
Horrified, Harry tried to pull away but found that he couldn't. At the head of this army was their leader, and she would allow no one to leave for there could never be an end to this.
“Sorrow is eternal sweet child. Have you not seen death? Have you not lost ones you love? Join us here in the weeping place. Join us until our tears drown the land and bring an end to it all.” a voice whispered, terrible in its compassion, limitless in its mercy and its despair. And as the voice spoke - he saw her.
The wind torn at her hair, pulling it free of the plait it was bound in, and sending mixed strands of dark blonde and steel grey across her face. The face itself was full of strong yet graceful lines, the softness of youth replaced by the stately beauty of years. The faint lines around around her mouth, and at the corner of the oh so pale blue, tear filled, eyes showed that once she had laughed. Laughed and smiled enough for the traces of it to remain even through the look of desolation she now wore.
Harry knew her then, though in his waking life he had never seen nor heard of her. Tamora - Lady of Sorrows. And knew that she was right.
He would follow her, take his place among the widows and the orphans, and weep. Weep for his parents, weep for Sirius, for Cedric, for those dead and for those yet to die.
Following his Lady, Harry marched with the rest, his tears joining with theirs and flowing back to the great lake until it became an ocean.
“Oh come now,” a new Voice said, rich and melodic. Harry felt sure he knew it but in this place he could not remember who it belonged to. “are things really so terrible?”
Laughter floated around them, and as it did the army slowly vanished and Harry found himself once again watching from high above.
“Things are as they have ever been, and as they ever will be.” Tamora said softly, seemingly either unaware or unconcerned that she now stood alone.
“Not so my sweet, you were happy once. You can be again...” the oddly familiar Voice continued, coming from all directions and none.
“No. My children are gone, my beloved Berig is gone. There is no happiness in this world any more.” Tamora told the voice, tears flowing freely down her face.
“They are gone, true. But, I can show you new joys... new pleasures... You shall always be the Lady of Sorrows, my dear Tamora. Even I can not change that. But I can make it bearable, I can even give you moments when you can forget your pain.”
“You lie.” Tamora said, steel in her voice despite her crying.
“No Tamora, I do not - you know what I say is true. All I ask, is for your loyalty. A small thing to ask in the face of so great an offer. Think of it this way, what do you have to lose?” the Voice cajoled, in a honeyed tone.
Tamora laughed, a brittle humourless sound.
“Very well Innadrue, very well... If you can give me respite from my sorrows, I am yours.”
The Voice laugh again, and Harry felt himself pulling away from this dream and into another...
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Curled tightly into a ball in his sleep, Harry made soft whimpering sounds against his tear dampened pillow until another very different dream pulled him in...
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The dream was different. Where the dream before had been bleak, this one was vibrant. Harry stood in a lush meadow, the grass a deep emerald green and the sky a riot of impossible colours.
Hearing sound of activity and laughter in the distance Harry hurried forward to find their source, smiling to himself as he went. Within moments Harry found himself looking at a mass of garishly coloured tents arranged in a circle around one tent of deep red fabric that towered above the rest. All around him was bustling activity - acrobats performed complex somersaults onto each others shoulders, a bearded lady dressed as a gypsy rode by on a unicycle juggling, a bright bubblegum pink poodle walked upright on top of a large ball as a pretty blonde woman directed it, and all around clowns of every description threw pies, fell over one another and folded intricate balloon animals that got up and walked of their own accord.
“I love the circus, its my favourite.” said a young boy, a boy Harry realised was standing by his side with Harry's hand clutched in his own.
The boy smiled up at Harry excitedly and tugged at his hand.
“Come on, we should go into the big top or all the good seats will be gone.” he grinned, pulling Harry towards the large central tent.
“OK, lets go to the big top.” Harry laughed happily.
As they walked Harry realised that he couldn't make out the boys features, only a cute mop of untidy chestnut hair and deep brown eyes, the colour of burnt chocolate. Everything else about him seems to shift slightly second to second. Somehow it didn't seem to be important at the moment.
Harry let himself be led into the tent that turned out to be easily three times bigger inside than it's exterior dimensions would allow. This too didn't seem strange, and Harry eagerly took a seat with his new friend near the front as the rest of the vast audience streamed in and took their places.
“No one ever comes to see the circus with me - I’m so glad you came.” The boy said in an excited whisper, bouncing slightly in his seat as he stared at the open space in the middle of the tent.
“Me too, I’ve never been to the circus before.” Harry smiled, ruffling the boys hair.
“Oh, you'll love it, they have an act with a bear where he-”
Whatever the boy was about to say Harry never found out, for at that moment the lights dimmed, a red spotlight appeared in the centre and strange, thin tall man in a lemon ringmasters out fit stepped into it. The crowd hushed and leaned forward.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls of all ages! Welcome to the greatest show on Earth!” The man called, in a deep rumbling basso the seemed strange on his skeletal frame. As the audience broke into enthusiastic applause the ringmaster smiled, showing broken yellow teeth.
For a moment Harry was uneasy, but before he could follow the thought his young companion tugged again on his hand.
“Pay attention, its about to start.” he whispered, the features of his face seeming to be in constant motion now.
Turning back to the performance Harry watched as the first act came out. It was the acrobats he had seen outside, only now their tumbles were even more impressive. Shortly after they were followed by a tightrope walker, a trapeze artist, the blonde woman and her performing poodle, jugglers, and a stream of seltzer squirting clowns.
Soon Harry forgot all about his unease and found him self laughing and gasping along with everyone else.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages, I present the world famous Mr Bonzo and his trained bear Stinky!” The ringmaster called as a drum roll began and the spotlight moved to show a new person entering the ring.
This clown was not at all like the others, his clothes were torn and dirty, the make up on his face old and flaking away. The green wig on his head had large patches where the hair seemed to have fallen out, and his red nose was cracked down its centre. He seemed listless and bored but for the manic gleam in his deep brown eyes.
“Who would like to come and perform with my bear, come and perform with my bear Stinky, Stinky the bear.” Mr Bonzo said. His voice an awful screeching sound like nails across a chalkboard, but strangely devoid of inflection.
“This is the bit I told you about, the bit with the bear.” The young boy told Harry with a grin, his teeth sharper than they had been before.
“Should I volunteer to go down?” Harry asked, feeling suddenly confused by everything around him.
“Oh no, no, no, no, no, no!” The boy laughed in a very adult way. “Just watch, you'll see - its the funniest thing!”
Uncertain what else to do Harry turned back to watch as a young girl of about twelve made her way down to the centre, giving her smiling parents a quick wave. When she reached the waiting clown, Mr Bonzo went to stand silently behind her and gripped her arms tightly. A look of fear flickered across the girls face and Harry found he shared it.
“Stinky! Stinky! Stinky!” Bonzo called in his horrible voice.
At first nothing happened, and then slowly a large lumbering shape began to make its way into the centre. Harry had never seen a bear before and didn't know how large they usually were - but this one had to bigger than any natural bear should be. Easily fourteen feet in length and wider across than Harry was tall, it was terrifying.
As the great beast came into the spotlights beam where the clown waited with his volunteer, Harry gasped. Parts of the bear seemed to have rotted away, open wounds oozing with puss covered its body, while maggots crawled around in its empty eye sockets. As though noticing the bears appearance had brought the smell to him, Harry's mouth and nose were suddenly with the stench of decaying flesh. He retched violently.
“Keep watching! You'll miss it!” The boy ordered, squeezing Harry's hand painfully hard, his small fingers like iron.
Not wanting to look up, but unable not to, Harry saw the bear begin to sniff at the girl, who was now trying to pull away from the sinister clown holding her. It did no good.
As Harry watched in horror, the bear opened its vast mouth and bit through the girls ankle as though it were made of butter. She screamed, over and over as the bear slowly ate the foot. And while she screamed the audience laughed and clapped their hands in delight. Harry tried to turn away but found he couldn't, couldn't move at all, couldn't even speak. He watched crying and gagging as piece by piece the bear ripped the young girl apart and devoured her.
When her arms and her legs were gone and her stomach torn open, the bear back away and sat itself down. Mr Bonzo calmly laid her down on the ground - and began pulling out her intestines. As he did, Harry saw the girl twitch and realised with horror that she was still alive. Ignoring the girl, Mr Bonzo began twisting the bloody tubes into grisly shapes.
“Balloon animals! I love balloon animals! See, didn't I tell you how funny it was? Its the best show ever!” The boy told Harry in delight.
At last Harry found he was free to move and he turned to look at the boy by his side - and seeing him - Harry screamed.
The boy was not longer that, rather he had become a young man - but torn and broken in exactly the same way as the girl. As his entrails slid from the great rips in his stomach the man smiled at Harry, a deaths head grin of sheer pure madness.
“Are.. are you the little girl?” Harry asked, his mind whirling in confusion, unsure even what had led him to ask that.
The man laughed with the voice of a boy.
“Of course silly! I'm all of them, the acrobats, the bear, the little bleeding girl, the audience and Mr Bonzo - your the only one here who isn't me! That's why its so nice to have you here. I told you - no one ever come to the circus with me.”
As he spoke, the tent began to burn and the people to scream. Terrible dark... things, always just outside of vision, started slashing at people as the fled the flames. None made it. Everywhere Harry looked there was chaos and death.
“What is this?! I don't understand?!” Harry screamed, turning back to the strange man/boy.
This time the man had a clear shape, and Harry finally saw his face. He looked young, only a year or two older than Harry himself. He had the kind of features that held the promise of ageing into a deeply handsome man; of a youth not quite grown into his looks. His mouth was wide and full and he had hauntingly beautiful eyes, still the same burnt chocolate as when Harry had first seen him. And he was crying.
“I don't understand either, all of it - it changes and swirls. I lose myself in it and I forget who I am. Do you know? Please tell me.” The youth begged Harry.
Before Harry could answer, a violet mist began to blow around them - dissolving the scenes of chaos and blood until Harry and the young man were the only things still there.
“Mordecai... Mordecai...” A Voice from the mist called.
“Mordecai?” The man whispered to himself, a look of wonder on his face. “Yes, yes! That's who I was!”
“No Mordecai, it is who you are still, you've just gotten a little lost.” The Voice went on. “Would you like me to show the path back to yourself? To keep the voices and the visions at bay Mordecai? I can do that...”
Weeping with joy, Mordecai fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around himself, rocking softly.
“Yes... please...yes. Anything, anything you want if you'll just make it stop.”
The mist moved again and flowed into a familiar shape.
Innadrue reached down and gently drew Mordecai back to his feet, wrapping his arms around him and gently stroking his hair as you would a child's.
Harry called to him but he didn't seem to hear - and he realised through the fog of the dream that this was something that had happened long, long ago, a distorted dream vision of a real event.
“All I require of you is a small thing, Mad Lord. Only your loyalty... nothing more.” Innadrue whispered gently.
Looking up into the taller man's face, a maniac gleam once more in his eyes, Mordecai smiled and ran a hand down Innadrue's chest.
“Then you shall have it... Lord of Lust...”
The sound of Innadrue's throaty laughter was the last thing Harry heard before the dream vanished and he was shaken awake.
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“Harry! Harry! Wake up! Your having a nightmare mate.” someone said, shaking Harry's shoulder.
Bleary from the dreams, his mind full of images ripping flesh, weeping women, lakes of tears, blood, death and most of all, another man in Innadrue's arms, Harry acted on impulse. Gripping the unknown hand on his shoulder, Harry twisted it sharply to the right - a gratifying snap followed, along with a scream cut short by Harry's other hand shooting out to grip the throat of the worm who dared to touch him unasked. Squeezing slowly, Harry felt the power in his blood sing, and he smiled. He would crush this dogs throat...
“Ha- gha- Harry! Stop!” Ron's voice pleaded.
And that was enough. Suddenly awake fully Harry released his grip and quickly turned on a light.
“Oh god Ron, I'm so sorry! Are you OK?” Harry asked desperately.
Ron, struggled to draw a breath - an awful rasping sound - failed, tried again. Failed again. Harry looked at him in horror and understood... he had crushed Ron's windpipe.
“HELP! SOMEBODY! HELP US!”
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POST FIC NOTE: Remember, reviews are love :)