Darkness Man (After the Flaw: Oligarchy, Chapter 15)
Title: Darkness Man (After the Flaw: Oligarchy, Chapter 15)
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Previous Chapters
Rating: R for language, gore, and violence
Summary: The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men Gang aft agley
Notes: Sorry for the late post. This is a continuation of the previous chapter, as well as the last chapter that I will be posting in this "chunk" of After the Flaw: Oligarchy. More will come in the coming months.
I own these characters. The others belong to JK Rowling.
Best-Laid Plans / Previous Chapters / Limited Commercial Interruption
It wasn't a bonfire.
The first thing that Victoire Weasley thought when she saw Dominik's tent fifty yards away, which he shared with two other explorers, engulfed in flames was that there was some horrible accident. The three silhouetted figures staring at the inferno were clearly in shock, and any moment one of them would think about casting an Aguamenti on the tent before all was lost.
"Dominik?" she called out, stepping forward. "What happened?"
The three men turned around, and Victoire saw that they weren't the men who had been assigned the tent. In the days to come, Victoire could only come up with this description of her attackers: They were nothing. Two of them wore black hoods, and Victoire could see nothing beneath them. The third's hood was pulled back, but his head was only darkness, as though his skull were a miniature black hole.
And that's when she saw the bodies. Three of them, scattered among the attackers. They appeared to have been struck down as they exited the tent. She saw the bleached-blond hair of Dominik on one of them.
The three men pulled their wands, and Victoire forgot about everything else.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Ektrepo!" the third, the one without the hood, yelled as green streams of light shot from the tips of the other two wands. Victoire stood paralyzed as energy flew directly at her. The third man flicked his wand quickly, and Victoire watched with detached amazement as the green bolts actually arced in mid-air, instant death now passing by her so close that she felt an electric charge through her short hair.
Ohgodohgodohgod, she thought, her stasis now broken as the third man, the darkness man, pointed his wand at her. Her hand flew to her pocket, to her wand, only to remember with horror that she had left it in the tent.
"Mougkos!" Darkness Man said, and Victoire just dove out of the way of a blue jet of light from his wand.
"Help!" Victoire shrieked as she hit the ground, "Help, somebody help!"
"Mougkos!!" Darkness Man repeated as Victoire vaulted to her feet. Unfortunately, she had no time to dodge this attack, and was thrown back down as quickly as she had gained her feet. Now that her brain was fully invested in screaming for everyone else in the campsite, she continued to call for help, even as she landed on her back.
But she couldn't hear her voice.
I'm deaf, I'm deaf, oh God... she thought, even as she heard the rustling of the flaps from the other three tents and the shouts of confusion from Luna's crew as they first entered the scene.
"Incendio!"
"Kaiomai!"
"Incendio!"
foomp
foomp
foomp
Her calls couldn't have been better-timed. As Victoire rolled over onto her stomach, she watched helplessly as the other tents instantly exploded into flame. Her heart stopped as she thought of anyone else still inside those tents, which often had interiors as large and complex as mansions, but a quick tally made her realize that everyone had gotten out before these dark wizards had struck: There was Uncle Charlie, clad only in his boxers, standing beside Luna Lovegood. Both stood in defense position, with wands raised, along with Xenophilius Lovegood, leaning on his cane yet still appearing regal and powerful with his graying candyfloss hair whipping behind him and wand pointed at the Darkness Man. The four remaining members of Luna's committee, who Victoire had only met this evening, appeared equally prepared for battle.
"Who are you?" Xenophilius asked three dark wizards as the two sides sized each other up. "Why have you killed our men?"
"We are the end of your quest, gerogatos," said the Darkness Man who, for his part, held his wand calmly at his side. "You have overstepped your bounds, and we have come to put you in your place."
"You control the Stymphalians?" asked Luna. "Why? What use do you have for them?"
Darkness Man chuckled, his laughter rough in his throat. "You have read far too many stories to think that the opponent would just give you their entire plan. You think you have found the bridge to your destination. We are simply here to tear that bridge down beneath your feet. Attack!"
As the Dark wizards and the Lovegood Expedition made their first moves, Victoire could only lay on the ground and watch the opening volleys. She had heard the stories through her family and through Professor Squall, stories of life the Dark Times, but they had been difficult to truly grasp them. But now, as she watched witches and wizards who had been asleep just moments before jump fully into battle, she began to understand.
Witches and wizards who lived during Voldemort's time, during Grindelwald's time, knew that, someday, they would have to fight. And they were prepared. When the time came, they didn't need to get ready for battle. They simply were ready. And as Luna, clad only in a hastily-buttoned shirt and knickers, threw spells at the three wizards, as old Xeno hurled a volley that would make Professor Ogden blush, and as Charlie roared a leaf-shaking battle cry, Victoire knew that this energy, this ability to defend, never died. It just went into hibernation until it was needed again.
If only she had that in her.
Victoire pushed herself to her hands and knees and, even through the fog of panic that was starting to creep into her vision, she weighed her options. There were seven on the good side, three on the bad. But the three dark wizards looked to know what they were doing even more than those fighting them, and the battle appeared to be a stalemate as multi-colored streaks of light flew across the forest. She wanted to help, but...
She tried calling out encouraging words. Nothing came. I'm not deaf after all, she thought, amazed at the calmness of her thoughts. Some sort of Silencio? She considered slipping into the barn tent to find her wand, but negated that thought quickly. As long as she couldn't talk, she couldn't fight. Her nonverbals were shaky to begin with, but to have to work them while risking her life was something else entirely.
And then something happened that struck all of those thoughts from her mind. One of the Expedition's men went down. One of the Dark wizards went down. Darkness Man, who seemed to be dealing with the attacks more easily than his mates, quickly parried two shots fired from two different directions, then pointed his wand into the air, launching a sparkling purple flare above the treeline.
A blood-curdling screech pierced the night, and the battle froze in its tracks. I forgot about their cry, Victoire thought, her mind reeling. All of the research, and I forgot about their cry...
Through the trees above, three large creatures began to circle down towards the battle below. Despite the terror now coursing through her, the professional side of Victoire Weasley, the side that had chosen magical creature research as her field, was beside itself with joy. After all, it wasn't every day that a species thought extinct for thousands of years fell from the sky, light from the flare and the fires glinting off their shining bodies.
Metre and a half long, this side of her now cataloged. Wingspan two and a half, three times that; elliptical, like a sparrowhawk. Long, bare neck and head like a vulture. Their feathers... Their feathers are different colors! Some silver, some more of a brass! Could it differentiate sex? Why was that never in the research?
"Congratulations!" Darkness Man called derisively to his opponents. "You have reached your destination! You have found the Stymphalian Birds! Akida!"
The three Stymphalian Birds released another hell-raising scream, and flapped their wings once. With the speed of an arrow from a quiver, an uncountable number of razor-sharp feathers shot from the underside of their wings and whistled to the ground. Luna tried to defend herself with a Protego spell but Charlie, realizing the futility of the action, simply threw his body at her and knocked her to the ground, avoiding death by inches as dozens of feathers impaled themselves into the dirt and leaves where they had once stood.
The other member of Darkness Man's trio was pushed backwards as numerous deadly feathers pierced his chest. Another caught him in the throat, blood spurting from his beneath his dark hood. He fell to the ground, lifeless.
"Father!"
Victoire had never heard Luna Lovegood release her emotions. Her heart froze as she now heard the normally even-headed researcher and reporter scream out as Xenophilius Lovegood dropped his wand and fell to his knees. Beside him, two of the remaining members of the expedition, one witch and one wizard, were rolling on the ground in agony from their numerous wounds. For Xeno, however, only one brass-tinted feather had made it through his deflection spells, and was now lodged in his forehead above his left eye. He fell face-forward, dead before he hit the ground.
"Father!" Luna screamed. "Father! Nooo!"
"Akida!"
"Luna, move!"
Charlie pulled Luna to him and the two rolled across the grass as the birds unleashed another volley of feathers. Gustav, a beefy man with an even beefier mustache and the final surviving member of the Expedition beyond Luna, Charlie, and Victoire, dove behind a large rock, managing to escape with nothing more than a sliced sleeve.
"Akida!"
Charlie was on his feet now, carrying a frantic Luna in his arms. He slid behind a large tree as the third volley sliced towards him. Although the tree muffled the feathers impact somewhat, Victoire was reminded of how supernaturally sharp they were as she heard Charlie scream in pain as several feathers pierced through the trunk and struck him in the back.
"Are you alive, drakontas kynigos?" Darkness Man called out as the three birds landed on the ground beside him.
"I... I think you're talking to me," Charlie said, and Victoire could hear the pain in his voice. "And I'm alive enough to still kill you, you son of a bitch."
"You murderer," Luna sobbed. "Why? Why my father? He did nothing to you..."
"He was a pawn of fate," said the Darkness Man, idly walking over to the witch and wizard still on the ground, groaning in agony. "He simply stepped in the way of the tidal wave. As did you all. Thanatos. Thanatos." With these words, the two fell still and silent in a flash of green.
Victoire, realizing that she had been all but forgotten in these exchanges, decided that the time to act was now. She quickly scanned the forest floor, discovering a rock roughly the size of a loaf of bread, and picked it up. Quietly, as quietly as she could, she tip-toed her way across the clearing, hoping beyond hope to avoid the Darkness Man's attention.
"Yet we are still alive," Gustav said from behind his rock as Victoire crept closer. "How strange."
"Yes, quite strange," said Darkness Man calmly. "But the target practice went well, I think. A good test for my children. I thank you for that. Ah ah ah."
Victoire had come close enough to the Darkness Man to raise the rock above her head, preparing to strike down on that black hole of a skull, hoping that there was something solid underneath. As she swung down, the dark wizard flicked his wand over his shoulder, and the rock disintigrated in Victoire's hands, which only uselessly struck his shoulders.
Another flick, and she was lifted into the air.
"Vickie!" Charlie cried out, now daring to peek from behind the tree.
"Well, that was brave," said Darkness Man as he lifted Victoire higher in the air. She tried to struggle against her invisible bonds, but was frozen. "But fruitless. And certainly no way for a Prostatevmenos to act. Not after everything we have done for you."
What have you done for me? Victoire tried to say through through her muted throat as she stared down into Darkness Man's abyss. You murdering sack of--
"I have let you live," said Darkness Man, reading her lips or reading her thoughts. "That is all, and that is more than all. But," he said, and Victoire was amazed to see the blackness on his shoulders actually tilt in contemplation, "I am not convinced. I say we test your mettle to discover if you have what it takes to become O Pio Kontinos."
His wand flicked upwards, and Victoire fell to her stomach, landing with a thud that knocked the wind out of her. As she looked up, she saw it now return to level, aiming at the barn tent.
"I think you have something of value in there, do you not, Prostatevmenos?" Darkness Man chuckled, rolling the wand between his fingers. "Just how valuable is it? Kaiomai!"
Victoire pushed herself to her knee and turned around just as the barn tent burst into flame. Buckbeak! she tried to scream as the terrified whinnies of a dozen horses pealed out of the tent flap. Without thinking about anything else but her hippogriff, her Buckbeak, her best friend, Victoire was on her feet, sprinting into the tent.
"Vickie, no!" Charlie yelled. Now he was on the move, as was Gustav, running towards the dark wizard or towards the tent neither could say. In any event, the wizard was prepared for them, as were his familiars.
"Nychi!" the wizard yelled, and the three birds took wing. Low and fast, they aimed at their three remaining opponents.
And they were upon them.
---------
The nature of Expansion Charms has been a matter of debate within the wizarding community for years:
If a box is charmed with an Expansion Charm, the question posed, does the inside of the box grow? Or do the objects placed in the box shrink?
It is, in fact, often the first question posed to students in introductory philosophy courses in order to introduce them to think outside of the box, so to speak (Mostly taught after the completion of primary magical education, although Beauxbatons and Jinin Gu in the Shaanxi Province of China both hold world-renouned philosophy programs for younger witches and wizards). Victoire Weasley had heard the question many times, herself, throughout the years. Her mother, a surprisingly adept philosophy student during her time at Beauxbatons, would sometimes pass the time at family gatherings weighing the merits of each argument with Uncle Percy, Pepere Delacour or Granddad Weasley. Fleur Weasley's rare and abrupt transformations into Confucius or Plato would often stun other members of the Weasley and Delacour family into intimidated silence, but Victoire loved listening to the back-and-forth in those instances.
But as she ran into the stable tent, Victoire suddenly didn't give a damn about the debate. All she knew was that what was a large fire outside had become an enormous fire inside. The air glowed orange and yellow as the flames danced across wooden crossbeams. Her eyes watered with the smoke, but the tears evaporated just as quickly as the moisture on her skin, which suddenly felt as stiff as cardboard. The haze limited her vision to no more than a few feet in front of her, and her nose was thick with the smell of smoke. Smoke and cooking horseflesh, as all around her hysterical horses wailed an anguished cacophony as they strained against their tethers.
I'm dead, Victoire thought. If I don't get out of here now, I'm dead. As soon as those horses break free, I'm trampled.
And yet she proceeded forward. Further back, muffled by the smoke, she could hear the terrified cawing and screeching of her Buckbeak. Centuries ago, she had placed the sleeping area for her and the hippogriff near the back of the tent. That way they wouldn't disturb the rest of the horses, and she wouldn't have to worry as much about being disturbed if anyone came in while she was sleeping or... whatever...
Brilliant, she thought as she flinched away from a rearing horse. You're going to get yourself killed just because you wanted privacy to masturbate. Try explaining that to St. Peter when you get to the Pearly Gates, alright?
At first, she tried feeling her way through the huge stable, by touching the posts between the stalls. Soon enough, though, too soon, the wood itself was as hot as a stovetop, and the merest touch brought blisters to Victoire's hands. She had to resign herself to walking down the middle of the stable, hoping that nothing had fallen down to impede her path. If she fell, she knew she'd be disoriented enough to never find her way out.
Buckbeak! she tried yelling. That only forced her to inhale, which only brought upon a fit of coughing. The act was made doubly pointless by the fact that her voice was still under that curse from the Darkness Man.
And so she trudged on through the heat and the smoke and the terror. Some horses collapsed as she passed, while others came insanely close to killing her with their flailing hooves. She tried her best not to think about it.
I need help, she thought. Please, I need help! Buckbeak! Someone! Lumos!
Victoire's wand did as Harry Potter's did in Little Whinging all those years ago: Although it lay yards away from her, her wand lit up at her nonverbal command. Sitting just beside her cot, it was a white light piercing through the smoky air. Victoire was amazed that it hadn't burned up, and was even more amazed that Buckbeak hadn't trampled it, for now she saw the hippogriff kicking and bucking in his stall, his large wings battering against the scorching wooden walls and his eyes wide with fear.
Any normal witch or wizard would have recoiled at seeing a hippogriff in this state, sure that those razor-sharp talons would slash them to bits if they even came close. But Victoire Weasley was no normal witch. There was fear in her, yes. The hippogriff could smell that and read that as much as ever. But it was fear of the situation, not of the creature. She stepped forward confidently and placed her hands on the flailing hippogriff's neck.
It's me, she thought, placing all of her will behind it. Beaky, it's me. Calm down. I'm here to help. Beaky, you have to calm down.
And, amazingly, without a word from Victoire, Buckbeak did calm. His wings lowered to his sides, and his eyes, although still wide with fear, fixed upon the witch.
I'm going to get us out of here, she thought, getting down on her hands and knees to pick up her glowing wand. With one quick slash, she severed the rope which had tethered Buckbeak to the rest of the stable.
I'm going to cast my patronus, she thought to Buckbeak. Follow it out. I'll be right behind you.
Buckbeak squawked hoarsely back to her, the smoke affecting his throat as much as hers. Taking a deep breath, Victoire raised her wand and tried her best to find a happy memory while blocking out the apocalyptic scene around her. She closed her eyes.
---------
Victoire turned to see Teddy Lupin standing in front of the others. Her heart filled with joy at his face.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"I've always been ready," she said, and walked to him. Now she was naked. And now he was, as well, and he was just as she always knew he would be.
"I'm sorry," said Victoire with excitement. "I love him."
"Yes," Victoire said, now pressing her back against Teddy's chest. His hand slid to her naked breast, thumb pressed against hardened nipple. And still he drove deeper... deeper... "Oh, God, yes..."
"I'm sorry," said Victoire with excitement. "I love him.
"I'm the one he belongs to."
Her heart filled with joy at his face.
---------
She didn't see or hear the flaming beam break from the scaffolding above her.
"EXPECTO PATRO--!"
There was darkness.
---------
No one really got Luna Lovegood.
It was understandable, of course. Ridicule and confusion often follow someone is as driven by faith and emotion as Luna Lovegood. Yes, emotion; even if it never came out as strongly as it did in others, no one who really knew Luna ever questioned her unflinching compassion or devotion to her fellow wizards and witches.
Her life at Hogwarts before meeting Harry Potter and his friends was challenging. People often thought it was amusing to take her things without asking. She never thought it quite as humorous as they did, but she had faith that they would find their way in the end. And they almost always did.
After Hogwarts, she was still viewed with confusion. Many of her articles for The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler were considered brilliant by the mainstream magical media. On the former wall of her former tent hung many former prestigious awards for her writing (But that was all just char now, and that was fine). There had even been owls from Australia, America, and Canada asking her opinion of syndication.
And yet there was her unrelenting devotion to the unknown. The unexplored. For every article about Magical Habitations of Southern Angola and Mating Rituals of the Taiwanese Thestral, Luna would write an article that spoke of species and places that no written text had ever discussed. For example, after all these decades of research, untold articles written by herself and her father, and the Ministry had yet to recognize the existence of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.
But that was fine. Luna knew that she was always only one piece of evidence away from swaying them. And her friends, although doubtful, were always there to support her.
Well, except maybe Hermione...
Most people who met Luna knew about her unpredictable side. They never quite took her seriously because of her temperament.
They didn't get her.
They didn't get that her brain was raging sea of constant thought, one eternal brainstorm that piled theory and hypothesis upon theory and hypothesis until it built a tower so high that few could comprehend it.
Simply put, living on faith meant to be that any situation, any outcome, no matter how outlandish it may seem, was entirely plausible. Nothing that ever happened to Luna was unexpected, as she had already accepted its possibility hours, days, weeks, months in advance. The lack of any extreme reaction to the events of her life may have led others to accept that Luna was mentally deficient or extremely antisocial. In truth, it was simply Luna Lovegood saying "Alright, so that just happened, like I thought it might. What's next?"
You would think that living with a brain like Luna's would be difficult. That it robs her of the joy of the unexpected. And that couldn't be further from the truth. Luna understood that her constant ideas held different weight, and she would be surprised, delighted, or shocked when one of her more unlikely ideas came true.
Example: Luna knew for years that the possibility of a relationship with Neville Longbottom or Charles Weasley existed. She also knew that the possibility of a relationship with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, Victoire Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Marcus Flint, Gilderoy Lockhart, or Voldemort himself existed. Those latter were, of course, far less likely to occur, yet the possibility remained. So when Harry Potter asked her to Professor Slughorn's Christmas party during her fifth year she was overjoyed to know that such an unlikely occurrence had, well, occurred. By the time the two met in the Great Hall, she had already prepared herself for an evening of friendly conversation and dance, an intense night of sexual intercourse, an evening of complete isolation as Harry received unwanted attention as The Chosen One, or a violent interruption of the festivities by vampires, acromantula, or enchanted man-eating pineapples. Not to mention the inevitable House Elf Revolution...
Tonight was another example: She had prepared herself for the death of her father for years. But that didn't make his unexpected death any less painful. Just because an event was possible didn't mean that it was fair, and it pained her to know that Xenophilius Lovegood, who she had loved so dearly, had to die so close to the end.
But, of course, Luna knew that it could come to this. Although their search these last months was to simply track and report any danger to the Ministry or the International Confederation, she knew that other possibilities existed. She knew, for instance, that they could face the Stymphalian Birds eventually. She knew that her life, and the lives of the others in her Expedition, could be in peril. She knew that, at some point, she may have to kill a Stymphalian Bird, capture a Stymphalian Bird, or allow the Stymphalian Bird to kill herself and everyone else in England.
As the three birds took wing, she knew that she would have to kill unless she were to be killed herself. One of the silver Stymphalians sped toward Gustav, and the brass-colored bird fell upon Charles. Her stomach twisted at the thought of Charles facing death himself, but decided that she would have to deal with her own troubles before helping the men.
In the short space between the second silver-colored Stymphalian taking wing and the moment that would signal the point of impact, Luna's mind remained calm. She eliminated all of the capture, surrender, chase, or suicide options. She was still unaware of the effectiveness of magic on a Stymphalian Bird's hide, so eliminated those options from her mental stockpile of kill ideas. She already had an idea of her surroundings, as well as a rough sketch of the bird's possible weak points, and took those into her decision-making process.
In the end, she found the idea that would save her at this moment, even if it was one that she had first theorized back in mid-August.
Luna Lovegood stood confidently to the right of the tree where Charles had brought her minutes before. The dry leaves crunched beneath her bare feet, and she could feel the cold night breeze against her bare legs and midriff (The shirt she was wearing had only been buttoned once across her breasts, and was now billowing behind her). She felt a stinging scratch across her right thigh, and another on her neck. She was sure that they had come from the feathers that had nearly killed them both. The pain, however, was distant as the idea began to solidify in her mind.
She held her right arm, her wand arm, across her body and pointed it at the tree. "Wingardium Leviosa," she said, and heard a slight scratching noise as one single silver feather pulled itself from the trunk. She held her wand up to her face and the feather, as though attached with an invisible rod, floated up with it.
All of this happened within two seconds of the dark wizard's order. Now Luna watched the silver Stymphalian fly towards her, wings beating up and down, neck stuck out straight from its body.
When it comes close enough to attack, Luna thought, Its head will pull back. He will be close, and you will not have much time to act.
It was, of course, more than enough time. Five feet from her, the huge bird reared back, its shining metal claws aiming for her soft flesh. The body pulled vertical, the head pulled back, the neck was exposed....
I'm sorry, dear bird, Luna had time to think. I am sorry that you must die, for you do not understand what you have been led to do.
"Depulso!" she yelled, pointing her wand straight out. The feather which she floated from her wand now launched forward like an arrow from a bow and connected with the Stymphalian's bare neck, severing his head from his body with sickening ease.
The bird's body, still speeding through the air, collided with Luna, knocking her to the ground. She felt a searing pain as the razor-covered wings connected with her arms, creating long, bleeding slashes on her skin. One stray feather, in particular, pierced her through her left shoulder, and as that arm suddenly felt useless Luna feared that it had sliced her collarbone in half.
This, however, was the least of her concerns. The neck of the beast was now pouring blood down onto her face. More importantly, more dangerously, the Stymphalian's bowels released at the point of death, covering Luna from the navel down in toxic dung. With her good arm, she pushed the corpse off of her (forcing a few more cuts to appear on her already bleeding arm) and pointed her wand at the mess. "Aguamenti," she said with the remaining oxygen in her lungs. She dared not take a breath so long as she was covered in the white and green death; she remembered Victoire's reaction to smelling just a small amount of feces that had been already been days old, and her mind was already hypothesizing countless ideas about what would happen to her with this kind of exposure to a fresh batch.
At last she believed that she had washed enough of the poison from her body, and she pushed herself to her feet. Now that her ordeal had passed, she became aware of the screams from around her.
Charles was wrestling the brass Stymphalian. Years of dealing with dragons helped him in his struggle, but Luna recognized that he was still losing. The bird's claws were firmly embedded in Charles's chest, and its razor-covered wings were beating down upon his shoulders. His wand was tossed aside, and his arms were up, pushing the bird's head away as it tried to peck at his face. Luna realized despairingly that his hands had been reduced: at least three of his fingers had already made their way down the bird's gullet.
Charles had it bad. Gustav's situation could only be described as a living nightmare. He was still alive, unfortunately. His arms lay weakly at his side, slashed and mangled. The silver Stymphalian, the largest of the three set upon them that night, was tearing hungrily into poor Gustav's stomach, and had pulled what appeared to be his large intestine from the red gore with his beak. Gustav was howling like a wounded animal (Which is what he is, Luna thought sickeningly), but could do nothing to escape his torment.
"Avada Kedavra," she said quickly, firing a Killing Curse at Gustav, allowing him to escape forever. She turned her attention to Charles, calculating how she could help. Before a decision could be made, however, she was hexed from her feet and thrown backwards. Her wand flew from her hand as she landed.
"You sixameni!" the dark wizard screamed as he approached her, wand pointed at her face. "Poutana! Boutso gliftie mounotricha!"
"That kind of language is not necessary," said Luna calmly.
"You killed him!"
"I had to," Luna explained, propping herself up on her one good elbow. "He was suffering because of what you did."
"You killed my bird! My beautiful, beautiful bird!"
"He was suffering because of what you did, as well."
"You know nothing of suffering," the dark wizard spat. Whatever enchantment made his head appear the way it did, it ended only a few inches out, as Luna could see spittle flying from the man's invisible mouth. "But you will know now. BASANO!"
It was the kind of pain that could drive people mad. But Luna had felt it before. It was the same pain that had surged through her body in her Dark Arts classes under Amycus Carrow. The same pain she had felt countless times from the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange while being held prisoner in Malfoy Manor.
She felt it and she had learned to cope with it. Her mind remained clear, even as her limbs flailed helplessly beside her, and even as she heard Charles, still engaged with the cawing Stymphalian, scream her name.
Luna's opened her eyes and watched as a black shape flew over her. The pain abated. Still unsure of why it had, fully aware that another pulse could come at any minute. Madam Lestrange was one who loved to push someone to their limit, and then allow them just enough time to recouperate before continuing her torture. This man could be the same.
She pushed herself up to look at her opponent. The opponent, however, was no longer completely whole. Luna gasped as the wizard that Victoire had mentally deemed the Darkness Man was split in half, his legs and waist falling to the ground moments before his torso. His dark, square-jawed face, now visible as his enchantment was lifted at his death, wore a look of anger and surprise, as though he barely saw his doom coming until it was already past him, blowing into the stable tent's door flap with barely a rustle.
Alright, so that just happened, like I thought it might, Luna thought as she pushed herself to her feet. What's next?
"Help?"
Charles.
The death of the dark wizard seemed to have an adverse effect on the Stymphalian Birds. They appeared confused and disoriented, at least temporarily. Luna thought it was possible that the wizard had established some sort of mental link with the birds in order to use them more effectively. Now that that link had been severed, however...
Charles took the spare moment to pull his knees up to his chin, plant his feet on the bird's chest (he only grunted slightly as the feathers slashed his bare soles to ribbons), and pushed the bird off of him. With a thick ripping sound, the talons were torn from his bleeding chest, and the bird landed on the ground twenty feet away.
"Don't kill it," Luna said as Charles rolled over and picked up his wand.
"Like hell I won't," Charles said, pointing his wand at the bird, which was kicking itself back upright.
"Charles, there may be more of them," she said rationally. "We came here to research them and to tell the world of their danger. The Ministry would do better work with living specimens than dead."
Charles hesitated. At any second, the bird would strike again. If he was to decide--
"If these birds are killed, then they would have all died for nothing," said Luna. "Aim for the head."
"Petrificus Totalus."
The Stymphalian Bird squawked once more, briefly, before falling back to the ground as stiff as a taxidermist's dream. Luna turned to the third bird, who was still feasting on the remains of Gustav, and cast the same spell, adding a containment spell on top of it in order to hold the Stymphalian after it regained its bearings.
"What happened?" Charles asked as he got his first look at the dead dark wizard. "Who did this?"
"I don't know," said Luna as Charles kicked the corpse. "I saw something black fly past me and into the stable--"
"The stable--Vickie!" Charles yelled, turning on his bleeding heel towards the burning stable tent.
But he was too late.
Another hooded figure was crouched in front of the flaming tent, holding a wand in one hand and a large, elaborately-decorated spear in the other. A large hippogriff stood vigilantly beside him. Both were looking down at a body on the ground.
"Victoire," Luna gasped, walking forward. "No..."
"You get the fuck away from her!" Charles screamed at the figure.
"Calm yourself, Charles Weasley," the man said in a deep, almost soothing voice.
"Get away!"
A bright flash flew from Charles's wand, aimed directly at the figure. Without turning away from Victoire, the hooded man lifted his wand and deflected the spell into the forest, where it exploded against a tree.
"Calm yourself," the man repeated. "Victoire Weasley will live."
"She's alive," Luna sighed in relief.
"She sustained an injury when a beam fell on her head," said the man, standing up. Indeed, even though the light cast shadows over them, Luna could see a patch of Victoire's beautiful blond hair had been stained red. "I have healed the wound, and done what I could for the smoke inhalation, but she should not exert herself. The horses did not make it, but--"
"Great, lovely, fine," Charles snarled. "Now get the fuck away from her."
"I would not harm a hair on her head, Charles," said the man. "She is one of the Protected."
"Protected?" Luna asked.
"Killing a dozen wizards, attacking us with bloody Stymphalians, setting her hippogriff on fire," Charlie said, his voice rising again. "Is that what you call Protected, you sick fuck?"
"The Stymphalian attack was not my doing," the wizard said, turning to Charles and Luna. "I assure you, heads will roll for their folly."
"You're not one of them?" Luna asked. "Not one of these wizards?"
The wizard pulled back his hood, revealing something that caught even Luna off-guard. His face was a mask of solid gold, with a long, curling golden hair and a large shimmering beard. If it was a mask, though, it was enchanted: Golden eyelids blinked over golden pupils, and golden lips moved along golden teeth. Despite his flawless features, the wizard's face carried an aura of age and wisdom, as though they stood in the presence of some minor god.
"My name is Gungnir," the wizard stated. "I am the Mask of Trondheim, the protector of Scandinavia and the Baltic Sea, and of the Circle of Thirteen. I have come because Victoire Weasley is under our protection, and I have come because you have strayed onto our path. Now I offer you your options."
"We have done nothing," said Luna. "Gungnir, if you had nothing to do with the Stymphalians, we do not know what we have done to--"
"You find yourself in a favorable position, Luna Lovegood," Gungnir interrupted. "Most who find themselves before the Oligarchy--"
"Oligarchy?"
"--are left with but two options: assimilation or death. Many are not even given the choice. But we are aware of your past exploits. The both of you," he said, nodding to Charles, who continued to stand tense, his wand at the ready. "As a member of the Weasley family, and as a woman who played a remarkable role in the defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort, you are both highly regarded by the Oligarchy and by the Circle."
"Well, whoopie doo for us," said Charles from between clenched teeth.
"I ask you, humbly," said Gungnir, "to abandon your quest. Never again speak of the Stymphalian Birds, and live your lives in peace. If you would take the Unbreakable Vow--"
"Yeah, not going to happen," said Charles.
"It would be wise for you both," said Gungnir. "You will run a terrible risk--"
"You said you know me, right?" said Charles. "Know about the Weasley family?"
"I know much about them."
"Then you'd know I'm not the brightest bulb on the Weasley family Christmas tree."
"We cannot stop," said Luna. "Many have died, yes. My father has died. But there must be more names and faces behind this threat. More than the three birds we faced tonight. If we give up, Gungnir, how many more will die?"
"Next option," Charles snapped, his other hand now holding his wand hand aloft.
"Please pause to think, Charles--" said Gungnir.
"Already paused. Next option." Rivulets of blood ran down both of his arms and, for the first time, Luna noticed that one of his eyelids was shut. She hoped that it was merely swollen, but its shape made her think that the Stymphalian may have taken one of Charles's eyes along with his fingers. If so, the pain he must be feeling now would be excrutiating...
"You appear weakened, Charles," said Gungnir, as if reading Luna's thoughts. "Perhaps we should sit--"
"Next option!" Charles yelled. "And if it involves you stepping away from my niece and me kicking your arse, then I'm all for it."
"Join us," said Gungnir. "The Oligarchy would do well to have two members of such power and such esteem in their fold."
Charles paused. His brow furrowed. Of all of the statements, this was the one he had least expected. "Join you? Why? So we can help you hunt the Stymphalians, even after you told us to give them up?"
"If you join us," Gungnir explained. "You will learn the truth about the Stymphalians. You will be able to help us reveal the truth behind their masters to the entire world."
"No."
Charles turned around to face Luna, who stepped forward. "No, we will not join you, Gungnir. Not unless you answer me one question, and truthfully. I am already sure that I know the answer, but I want to hear it from you."
"You may ask, Luna Lovegood," said Gungnir warily.
"You stated that you had nothing to do with the Stymphalian attack tonight," she said. "Yet you did not answer my query about whether you are affiliated with these dark wizards. So I ask you this: Does the Oligarchy have anything to do with the Stymphalian attack, whether or not you were personally responsible for the deaths this evening?"
"A very simple question with a very complex answer," Gungnir started.
"The style of your cloak and hood matches those who have fallen," said Luna. "And you killed the man whose face was covered in darkness, yet you allowed the Stymphalians to survive, even while they attacked us. The answer is no, Gungnir. We will not join you, and we will continue on our search for the truth."
Gungnir sighed. "Very well."
"That would leave death as the final option, correct?" asked Luna. "Are we required to fight now?"
"I would wish nothing less, Luna Lovegood," said Gungnir. "Your life has been important to the magical world, and I would not cause your death. Do not force my hand..."
"We're at an impasse, Gunner," said Charles. "How about we go our separate ways to patch up and fight another day?"
"I'm afraid I cannot allow you to leave."
"Then I guess we fight."
"You will not renounce your quest..."
"Never," said Luna calmly.
"And you will not join us..."
"Hell no," said Charles.
"Then we shall battle," said Gungnir, blasting both Luna and Charlie into unconsciousness before either of them had time to even cast their first hex. "If that's what you want to call it," he sighed at the two unconscious bodies. Buckbeak, who had stood protectively by Victoire this entire time, reared angrily, huge talons flashing within inches of the Mask of Trondheim's golden face.
"Calm yourself," he said with a soothing voice, raising his spear as he spoke. "They shall live, as shall your Victoire. Allow me safe passage, hippogryphe, or they shall suffer greatly."
Buckbeak relented. He stared at the golden wizard with hatred in his eye as Gungnir returned to the center of the campsite. With one circular motion of his wand, then fires stopped and the smoke dissipated. Another stroke, and vines and undergrowth sprung up around the tents, concealing them from view. A third, and the bodies of the dead witches and wizards instantly decomposed, becoming fertilizer within seconds. A fourth, and the feathers scattered around the scene, as well as the corpse of the Stymphalian that Luna had killed, collected before him in a floating ball of blue light.
With one final stroke, the two living Stymphalian birds were released from their invisible prisons, and fluttered around the scene.
"Damn Dola," Gungnir muttered as he mounted his spear. "Leaving it to me to clean up her mess. Come at me, you lille satans! Come and kill me!" With that he fired two rounds of spells at each of the metallic birds, who immediately charged at him in anger. Kicking off, Gungnir rode his spear like a broomstick, flying off into the night, followed close behind by the two legendary creatures and his glowing ball of scraps.
---------
Victoire Weasley's head was pounding as she felt something hard poke at her face. Opening her eyes, she saw Buckbeak's face poking at her in the darkness.
"Beaky?" she muttered, touching his face. "You're... How did we...?"
She sat up, causing another spike to drive through her brain. She tried her best to push it aside. With two quick pats on the ground, Victoire discovered her wand lying next to her. "Lumos," she said, now realizing that her voice had returned.
The camp, which had been awash with blazing light just moments before, was pitch black and deathly still. She saw the remains of the tents, now covered in vines and weeds. But there were no bodies.
Except for two.
"Uncle Charlie!" she cried out, running to Charlie Weasley, who was lying on his back. First thing, she pressed her finger against his carotid artery. A pulse. Thank Merlin. He was covered in blood, and he was missing two fingers on each hand, but he was alive.
Charlie groaned, and Victoire couldn't help herself. She wrapped her arms around him, sobbing gratefully into his bleeding chest.
"You're alive," she sobbed. "You're..."
"Where am I?"
"You're in the forest," she said. "We're in Poland. What happened to the Darkness Man? Or the Stymphalians?"
"Stymphalians?" Charlie asked foggily.
"Did they fly off? Uncle Charlie--"
"Who's Charlie?" Charlie asked, and Victoire's heart stopped at the tone of his voice. This wasn't a head injury, or waking up from a dream.
"You're Charlie," said Victoire. "You're Charlie. Charlie Weasley. My Uncle Charlie."
"Never heard of him," said Charlie with a shake of his head. "Am I Polish?"
"No," Victoire groaned, falling back onto her bottom. "No, no, you have to remember! You're Charlie Weasley, Charles Weasley, you're my--"
"Where am I?"
Victoire looked over, and dread washed over her as she saw Luna Lovegood sit up. One arm was hanging limply at her side, and the same puzzled expression on her face.
"Where am I?" she asked the two Weasleys. "Who are you?
"Who am I?"
Best-Laid Plans / Previous Chapters / Limited Commercial Interruption
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Previous Chapters
Rating: R for language, gore, and violence
Summary: The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men Gang aft agley
Notes: Sorry for the late post. This is a continuation of the previous chapter, as well as the last chapter that I will be posting in this "chunk" of After the Flaw: Oligarchy. More will come in the coming months.
I own these characters. The others belong to JK Rowling.
Best-Laid Plans / Previous Chapters / Limited Commercial Interruption
It wasn't a bonfire.
The first thing that Victoire Weasley thought when she saw Dominik's tent fifty yards away, which he shared with two other explorers, engulfed in flames was that there was some horrible accident. The three silhouetted figures staring at the inferno were clearly in shock, and any moment one of them would think about casting an Aguamenti on the tent before all was lost.
"Dominik?" she called out, stepping forward. "What happened?"
The three men turned around, and Victoire saw that they weren't the men who had been assigned the tent. In the days to come, Victoire could only come up with this description of her attackers: They were nothing. Two of them wore black hoods, and Victoire could see nothing beneath them. The third's hood was pulled back, but his head was only darkness, as though his skull were a miniature black hole.
And that's when she saw the bodies. Three of them, scattered among the attackers. They appeared to have been struck down as they exited the tent. She saw the bleached-blond hair of Dominik on one of them.
The three men pulled their wands, and Victoire forgot about everything else.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Ektrepo!" the third, the one without the hood, yelled as green streams of light shot from the tips of the other two wands. Victoire stood paralyzed as energy flew directly at her. The third man flicked his wand quickly, and Victoire watched with detached amazement as the green bolts actually arced in mid-air, instant death now passing by her so close that she felt an electric charge through her short hair.
Ohgodohgodohgod, she thought, her stasis now broken as the third man, the darkness man, pointed his wand at her. Her hand flew to her pocket, to her wand, only to remember with horror that she had left it in the tent.
"Mougkos!" Darkness Man said, and Victoire just dove out of the way of a blue jet of light from his wand.
"Help!" Victoire shrieked as she hit the ground, "Help, somebody help!"
"Mougkos!!" Darkness Man repeated as Victoire vaulted to her feet. Unfortunately, she had no time to dodge this attack, and was thrown back down as quickly as she had gained her feet. Now that her brain was fully invested in screaming for everyone else in the campsite, she continued to call for help, even as she landed on her back.
But she couldn't hear her voice.
I'm deaf, I'm deaf, oh God... she thought, even as she heard the rustling of the flaps from the other three tents and the shouts of confusion from Luna's crew as they first entered the scene.
"Incendio!"
"Kaiomai!"
"Incendio!"
foomp
foomp
foomp
Her calls couldn't have been better-timed. As Victoire rolled over onto her stomach, she watched helplessly as the other tents instantly exploded into flame. Her heart stopped as she thought of anyone else still inside those tents, which often had interiors as large and complex as mansions, but a quick tally made her realize that everyone had gotten out before these dark wizards had struck: There was Uncle Charlie, clad only in his boxers, standing beside Luna Lovegood. Both stood in defense position, with wands raised, along with Xenophilius Lovegood, leaning on his cane yet still appearing regal and powerful with his graying candyfloss hair whipping behind him and wand pointed at the Darkness Man. The four remaining members of Luna's committee, who Victoire had only met this evening, appeared equally prepared for battle.
"Who are you?" Xenophilius asked three dark wizards as the two sides sized each other up. "Why have you killed our men?"
"We are the end of your quest, gerogatos," said the Darkness Man who, for his part, held his wand calmly at his side. "You have overstepped your bounds, and we have come to put you in your place."
"You control the Stymphalians?" asked Luna. "Why? What use do you have for them?"
Darkness Man chuckled, his laughter rough in his throat. "You have read far too many stories to think that the opponent would just give you their entire plan. You think you have found the bridge to your destination. We are simply here to tear that bridge down beneath your feet. Attack!"
As the Dark wizards and the Lovegood Expedition made their first moves, Victoire could only lay on the ground and watch the opening volleys. She had heard the stories through her family and through Professor Squall, stories of life the Dark Times, but they had been difficult to truly grasp them. But now, as she watched witches and wizards who had been asleep just moments before jump fully into battle, she began to understand.
Witches and wizards who lived during Voldemort's time, during Grindelwald's time, knew that, someday, they would have to fight. And they were prepared. When the time came, they didn't need to get ready for battle. They simply were ready. And as Luna, clad only in a hastily-buttoned shirt and knickers, threw spells at the three wizards, as old Xeno hurled a volley that would make Professor Ogden blush, and as Charlie roared a leaf-shaking battle cry, Victoire knew that this energy, this ability to defend, never died. It just went into hibernation until it was needed again.
If only she had that in her.
Victoire pushed herself to her hands and knees and, even through the fog of panic that was starting to creep into her vision, she weighed her options. There were seven on the good side, three on the bad. But the three dark wizards looked to know what they were doing even more than those fighting them, and the battle appeared to be a stalemate as multi-colored streaks of light flew across the forest. She wanted to help, but...
She tried calling out encouraging words. Nothing came. I'm not deaf after all, she thought, amazed at the calmness of her thoughts. Some sort of Silencio? She considered slipping into the barn tent to find her wand, but negated that thought quickly. As long as she couldn't talk, she couldn't fight. Her nonverbals were shaky to begin with, but to have to work them while risking her life was something else entirely.
And then something happened that struck all of those thoughts from her mind. One of the Expedition's men went down. One of the Dark wizards went down. Darkness Man, who seemed to be dealing with the attacks more easily than his mates, quickly parried two shots fired from two different directions, then pointed his wand into the air, launching a sparkling purple flare above the treeline.
A blood-curdling screech pierced the night, and the battle froze in its tracks. I forgot about their cry, Victoire thought, her mind reeling. All of the research, and I forgot about their cry...
Through the trees above, three large creatures began to circle down towards the battle below. Despite the terror now coursing through her, the professional side of Victoire Weasley, the side that had chosen magical creature research as her field, was beside itself with joy. After all, it wasn't every day that a species thought extinct for thousands of years fell from the sky, light from the flare and the fires glinting off their shining bodies.
Metre and a half long, this side of her now cataloged. Wingspan two and a half, three times that; elliptical, like a sparrowhawk. Long, bare neck and head like a vulture. Their feathers... Their feathers are different colors! Some silver, some more of a brass! Could it differentiate sex? Why was that never in the research?
"Congratulations!" Darkness Man called derisively to his opponents. "You have reached your destination! You have found the Stymphalian Birds! Akida!"
The three Stymphalian Birds released another hell-raising scream, and flapped their wings once. With the speed of an arrow from a quiver, an uncountable number of razor-sharp feathers shot from the underside of their wings and whistled to the ground. Luna tried to defend herself with a Protego spell but Charlie, realizing the futility of the action, simply threw his body at her and knocked her to the ground, avoiding death by inches as dozens of feathers impaled themselves into the dirt and leaves where they had once stood.
The other member of Darkness Man's trio was pushed backwards as numerous deadly feathers pierced his chest. Another caught him in the throat, blood spurting from his beneath his dark hood. He fell to the ground, lifeless.
"Father!"
Victoire had never heard Luna Lovegood release her emotions. Her heart froze as she now heard the normally even-headed researcher and reporter scream out as Xenophilius Lovegood dropped his wand and fell to his knees. Beside him, two of the remaining members of the expedition, one witch and one wizard, were rolling on the ground in agony from their numerous wounds. For Xeno, however, only one brass-tinted feather had made it through his deflection spells, and was now lodged in his forehead above his left eye. He fell face-forward, dead before he hit the ground.
"Father!" Luna screamed. "Father! Nooo!"
"Akida!"
"Luna, move!"
Charlie pulled Luna to him and the two rolled across the grass as the birds unleashed another volley of feathers. Gustav, a beefy man with an even beefier mustache and the final surviving member of the Expedition beyond Luna, Charlie, and Victoire, dove behind a large rock, managing to escape with nothing more than a sliced sleeve.
"Akida!"
Charlie was on his feet now, carrying a frantic Luna in his arms. He slid behind a large tree as the third volley sliced towards him. Although the tree muffled the feathers impact somewhat, Victoire was reminded of how supernaturally sharp they were as she heard Charlie scream in pain as several feathers pierced through the trunk and struck him in the back.
"Are you alive, drakontas kynigos?" Darkness Man called out as the three birds landed on the ground beside him.
"I... I think you're talking to me," Charlie said, and Victoire could hear the pain in his voice. "And I'm alive enough to still kill you, you son of a bitch."
"You murderer," Luna sobbed. "Why? Why my father? He did nothing to you..."
"He was a pawn of fate," said the Darkness Man, idly walking over to the witch and wizard still on the ground, groaning in agony. "He simply stepped in the way of the tidal wave. As did you all. Thanatos. Thanatos." With these words, the two fell still and silent in a flash of green.
Victoire, realizing that she had been all but forgotten in these exchanges, decided that the time to act was now. She quickly scanned the forest floor, discovering a rock roughly the size of a loaf of bread, and picked it up. Quietly, as quietly as she could, she tip-toed her way across the clearing, hoping beyond hope to avoid the Darkness Man's attention.
"Yet we are still alive," Gustav said from behind his rock as Victoire crept closer. "How strange."
"Yes, quite strange," said Darkness Man calmly. "But the target practice went well, I think. A good test for my children. I thank you for that. Ah ah ah."
Victoire had come close enough to the Darkness Man to raise the rock above her head, preparing to strike down on that black hole of a skull, hoping that there was something solid underneath. As she swung down, the dark wizard flicked his wand over his shoulder, and the rock disintigrated in Victoire's hands, which only uselessly struck his shoulders.
Another flick, and she was lifted into the air.
"Vickie!" Charlie cried out, now daring to peek from behind the tree.
"Well, that was brave," said Darkness Man as he lifted Victoire higher in the air. She tried to struggle against her invisible bonds, but was frozen. "But fruitless. And certainly no way for a Prostatevmenos to act. Not after everything we have done for you."
What have you done for me? Victoire tried to say through through her muted throat as she stared down into Darkness Man's abyss. You murdering sack of--
"I have let you live," said Darkness Man, reading her lips or reading her thoughts. "That is all, and that is more than all. But," he said, and Victoire was amazed to see the blackness on his shoulders actually tilt in contemplation, "I am not convinced. I say we test your mettle to discover if you have what it takes to become O Pio Kontinos."
His wand flicked upwards, and Victoire fell to her stomach, landing with a thud that knocked the wind out of her. As she looked up, she saw it now return to level, aiming at the barn tent.
"I think you have something of value in there, do you not, Prostatevmenos?" Darkness Man chuckled, rolling the wand between his fingers. "Just how valuable is it? Kaiomai!"
Victoire pushed herself to her knee and turned around just as the barn tent burst into flame. Buckbeak! she tried to scream as the terrified whinnies of a dozen horses pealed out of the tent flap. Without thinking about anything else but her hippogriff, her Buckbeak, her best friend, Victoire was on her feet, sprinting into the tent.
"Vickie, no!" Charlie yelled. Now he was on the move, as was Gustav, running towards the dark wizard or towards the tent neither could say. In any event, the wizard was prepared for them, as were his familiars.
"Nychi!" the wizard yelled, and the three birds took wing. Low and fast, they aimed at their three remaining opponents.
And they were upon them.
---------
The nature of Expansion Charms has been a matter of debate within the wizarding community for years:
If a box is charmed with an Expansion Charm, the question posed, does the inside of the box grow? Or do the objects placed in the box shrink?
It is, in fact, often the first question posed to students in introductory philosophy courses in order to introduce them to think outside of the box, so to speak (Mostly taught after the completion of primary magical education, although Beauxbatons and Jinin Gu in the Shaanxi Province of China both hold world-renouned philosophy programs for younger witches and wizards). Victoire Weasley had heard the question many times, herself, throughout the years. Her mother, a surprisingly adept philosophy student during her time at Beauxbatons, would sometimes pass the time at family gatherings weighing the merits of each argument with Uncle Percy, Pepere Delacour or Granddad Weasley. Fleur Weasley's rare and abrupt transformations into Confucius or Plato would often stun other members of the Weasley and Delacour family into intimidated silence, but Victoire loved listening to the back-and-forth in those instances.
But as she ran into the stable tent, Victoire suddenly didn't give a damn about the debate. All she knew was that what was a large fire outside had become an enormous fire inside. The air glowed orange and yellow as the flames danced across wooden crossbeams. Her eyes watered with the smoke, but the tears evaporated just as quickly as the moisture on her skin, which suddenly felt as stiff as cardboard. The haze limited her vision to no more than a few feet in front of her, and her nose was thick with the smell of smoke. Smoke and cooking horseflesh, as all around her hysterical horses wailed an anguished cacophony as they strained against their tethers.
I'm dead, Victoire thought. If I don't get out of here now, I'm dead. As soon as those horses break free, I'm trampled.
And yet she proceeded forward. Further back, muffled by the smoke, she could hear the terrified cawing and screeching of her Buckbeak. Centuries ago, she had placed the sleeping area for her and the hippogriff near the back of the tent. That way they wouldn't disturb the rest of the horses, and she wouldn't have to worry as much about being disturbed if anyone came in while she was sleeping or... whatever...
Brilliant, she thought as she flinched away from a rearing horse. You're going to get yourself killed just because you wanted privacy to masturbate. Try explaining that to St. Peter when you get to the Pearly Gates, alright?
At first, she tried feeling her way through the huge stable, by touching the posts between the stalls. Soon enough, though, too soon, the wood itself was as hot as a stovetop, and the merest touch brought blisters to Victoire's hands. She had to resign herself to walking down the middle of the stable, hoping that nothing had fallen down to impede her path. If she fell, she knew she'd be disoriented enough to never find her way out.
Buckbeak! she tried yelling. That only forced her to inhale, which only brought upon a fit of coughing. The act was made doubly pointless by the fact that her voice was still under that curse from the Darkness Man.
And so she trudged on through the heat and the smoke and the terror. Some horses collapsed as she passed, while others came insanely close to killing her with their flailing hooves. She tried her best not to think about it.
I need help, she thought. Please, I need help! Buckbeak! Someone! Lumos!
Victoire's wand did as Harry Potter's did in Little Whinging all those years ago: Although it lay yards away from her, her wand lit up at her nonverbal command. Sitting just beside her cot, it was a white light piercing through the smoky air. Victoire was amazed that it hadn't burned up, and was even more amazed that Buckbeak hadn't trampled it, for now she saw the hippogriff kicking and bucking in his stall, his large wings battering against the scorching wooden walls and his eyes wide with fear.
Any normal witch or wizard would have recoiled at seeing a hippogriff in this state, sure that those razor-sharp talons would slash them to bits if they even came close. But Victoire Weasley was no normal witch. There was fear in her, yes. The hippogriff could smell that and read that as much as ever. But it was fear of the situation, not of the creature. She stepped forward confidently and placed her hands on the flailing hippogriff's neck.
It's me, she thought, placing all of her will behind it. Beaky, it's me. Calm down. I'm here to help. Beaky, you have to calm down.
And, amazingly, without a word from Victoire, Buckbeak did calm. His wings lowered to his sides, and his eyes, although still wide with fear, fixed upon the witch.
I'm going to get us out of here, she thought, getting down on her hands and knees to pick up her glowing wand. With one quick slash, she severed the rope which had tethered Buckbeak to the rest of the stable.
I'm going to cast my patronus, she thought to Buckbeak. Follow it out. I'll be right behind you.
Buckbeak squawked hoarsely back to her, the smoke affecting his throat as much as hers. Taking a deep breath, Victoire raised her wand and tried her best to find a happy memory while blocking out the apocalyptic scene around her. She closed her eyes.
---------
Victoire turned to see Teddy Lupin standing in front of the others. Her heart filled with joy at his face.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"I've always been ready," she said, and walked to him. Now she was naked. And now he was, as well, and he was just as she always knew he would be.
"I'm sorry," said Victoire with excitement. "I love him."
"Yes," Victoire said, now pressing her back against Teddy's chest. His hand slid to her naked breast, thumb pressed against hardened nipple. And still he drove deeper... deeper... "Oh, God, yes..."
"I'm sorry," said Victoire with excitement. "I love him.
"I'm the one he belongs to."
Her heart filled with joy at his face.
---------
She didn't see or hear the flaming beam break from the scaffolding above her.
"EXPECTO PATRO--!"
There was darkness.
---------
No one really got Luna Lovegood.
It was understandable, of course. Ridicule and confusion often follow someone is as driven by faith and emotion as Luna Lovegood. Yes, emotion; even if it never came out as strongly as it did in others, no one who really knew Luna ever questioned her unflinching compassion or devotion to her fellow wizards and witches.
Her life at Hogwarts before meeting Harry Potter and his friends was challenging. People often thought it was amusing to take her things without asking. She never thought it quite as humorous as they did, but she had faith that they would find their way in the end. And they almost always did.
After Hogwarts, she was still viewed with confusion. Many of her articles for The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler were considered brilliant by the mainstream magical media. On the former wall of her former tent hung many former prestigious awards for her writing (But that was all just char now, and that was fine). There had even been owls from Australia, America, and Canada asking her opinion of syndication.
And yet there was her unrelenting devotion to the unknown. The unexplored. For every article about Magical Habitations of Southern Angola and Mating Rituals of the Taiwanese Thestral, Luna would write an article that spoke of species and places that no written text had ever discussed. For example, after all these decades of research, untold articles written by herself and her father, and the Ministry had yet to recognize the existence of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.
But that was fine. Luna knew that she was always only one piece of evidence away from swaying them. And her friends, although doubtful, were always there to support her.
Well, except maybe Hermione...
Most people who met Luna knew about her unpredictable side. They never quite took her seriously because of her temperament.
They didn't get her.
They didn't get that her brain was raging sea of constant thought, one eternal brainstorm that piled theory and hypothesis upon theory and hypothesis until it built a tower so high that few could comprehend it.
Simply put, living on faith meant to be that any situation, any outcome, no matter how outlandish it may seem, was entirely plausible. Nothing that ever happened to Luna was unexpected, as she had already accepted its possibility hours, days, weeks, months in advance. The lack of any extreme reaction to the events of her life may have led others to accept that Luna was mentally deficient or extremely antisocial. In truth, it was simply Luna Lovegood saying "Alright, so that just happened, like I thought it might. What's next?"
You would think that living with a brain like Luna's would be difficult. That it robs her of the joy of the unexpected. And that couldn't be further from the truth. Luna understood that her constant ideas held different weight, and she would be surprised, delighted, or shocked when one of her more unlikely ideas came true.
Example: Luna knew for years that the possibility of a relationship with Neville Longbottom or Charles Weasley existed. She also knew that the possibility of a relationship with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, Victoire Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Marcus Flint, Gilderoy Lockhart, or Voldemort himself existed. Those latter were, of course, far less likely to occur, yet the possibility remained. So when Harry Potter asked her to Professor Slughorn's Christmas party during her fifth year she was overjoyed to know that such an unlikely occurrence had, well, occurred. By the time the two met in the Great Hall, she had already prepared herself for an evening of friendly conversation and dance, an intense night of sexual intercourse, an evening of complete isolation as Harry received unwanted attention as The Chosen One, or a violent interruption of the festivities by vampires, acromantula, or enchanted man-eating pineapples. Not to mention the inevitable House Elf Revolution...
Tonight was another example: She had prepared herself for the death of her father for years. But that didn't make his unexpected death any less painful. Just because an event was possible didn't mean that it was fair, and it pained her to know that Xenophilius Lovegood, who she had loved so dearly, had to die so close to the end.
But, of course, Luna knew that it could come to this. Although their search these last months was to simply track and report any danger to the Ministry or the International Confederation, she knew that other possibilities existed. She knew, for instance, that they could face the Stymphalian Birds eventually. She knew that her life, and the lives of the others in her Expedition, could be in peril. She knew that, at some point, she may have to kill a Stymphalian Bird, capture a Stymphalian Bird, or allow the Stymphalian Bird to kill herself and everyone else in England.
As the three birds took wing, she knew that she would have to kill unless she were to be killed herself. One of the silver Stymphalians sped toward Gustav, and the brass-colored bird fell upon Charles. Her stomach twisted at the thought of Charles facing death himself, but decided that she would have to deal with her own troubles before helping the men.
In the short space between the second silver-colored Stymphalian taking wing and the moment that would signal the point of impact, Luna's mind remained calm. She eliminated all of the capture, surrender, chase, or suicide options. She was still unaware of the effectiveness of magic on a Stymphalian Bird's hide, so eliminated those options from her mental stockpile of kill ideas. She already had an idea of her surroundings, as well as a rough sketch of the bird's possible weak points, and took those into her decision-making process.
In the end, she found the idea that would save her at this moment, even if it was one that she had first theorized back in mid-August.
Luna Lovegood stood confidently to the right of the tree where Charles had brought her minutes before. The dry leaves crunched beneath her bare feet, and she could feel the cold night breeze against her bare legs and midriff (The shirt she was wearing had only been buttoned once across her breasts, and was now billowing behind her). She felt a stinging scratch across her right thigh, and another on her neck. She was sure that they had come from the feathers that had nearly killed them both. The pain, however, was distant as the idea began to solidify in her mind.
She held her right arm, her wand arm, across her body and pointed it at the tree. "Wingardium Leviosa," she said, and heard a slight scratching noise as one single silver feather pulled itself from the trunk. She held her wand up to her face and the feather, as though attached with an invisible rod, floated up with it.
All of this happened within two seconds of the dark wizard's order. Now Luna watched the silver Stymphalian fly towards her, wings beating up and down, neck stuck out straight from its body.
When it comes close enough to attack, Luna thought, Its head will pull back. He will be close, and you will not have much time to act.
It was, of course, more than enough time. Five feet from her, the huge bird reared back, its shining metal claws aiming for her soft flesh. The body pulled vertical, the head pulled back, the neck was exposed....
I'm sorry, dear bird, Luna had time to think. I am sorry that you must die, for you do not understand what you have been led to do.
"Depulso!" she yelled, pointing her wand straight out. The feather which she floated from her wand now launched forward like an arrow from a bow and connected with the Stymphalian's bare neck, severing his head from his body with sickening ease.
The bird's body, still speeding through the air, collided with Luna, knocking her to the ground. She felt a searing pain as the razor-covered wings connected with her arms, creating long, bleeding slashes on her skin. One stray feather, in particular, pierced her through her left shoulder, and as that arm suddenly felt useless Luna feared that it had sliced her collarbone in half.
This, however, was the least of her concerns. The neck of the beast was now pouring blood down onto her face. More importantly, more dangerously, the Stymphalian's bowels released at the point of death, covering Luna from the navel down in toxic dung. With her good arm, she pushed the corpse off of her (forcing a few more cuts to appear on her already bleeding arm) and pointed her wand at the mess. "Aguamenti," she said with the remaining oxygen in her lungs. She dared not take a breath so long as she was covered in the white and green death; she remembered Victoire's reaction to smelling just a small amount of feces that had been already been days old, and her mind was already hypothesizing countless ideas about what would happen to her with this kind of exposure to a fresh batch.
At last she believed that she had washed enough of the poison from her body, and she pushed herself to her feet. Now that her ordeal had passed, she became aware of the screams from around her.
Charles was wrestling the brass Stymphalian. Years of dealing with dragons helped him in his struggle, but Luna recognized that he was still losing. The bird's claws were firmly embedded in Charles's chest, and its razor-covered wings were beating down upon his shoulders. His wand was tossed aside, and his arms were up, pushing the bird's head away as it tried to peck at his face. Luna realized despairingly that his hands had been reduced: at least three of his fingers had already made their way down the bird's gullet.
Charles had it bad. Gustav's situation could only be described as a living nightmare. He was still alive, unfortunately. His arms lay weakly at his side, slashed and mangled. The silver Stymphalian, the largest of the three set upon them that night, was tearing hungrily into poor Gustav's stomach, and had pulled what appeared to be his large intestine from the red gore with his beak. Gustav was howling like a wounded animal (Which is what he is, Luna thought sickeningly), but could do nothing to escape his torment.
"Avada Kedavra," she said quickly, firing a Killing Curse at Gustav, allowing him to escape forever. She turned her attention to Charles, calculating how she could help. Before a decision could be made, however, she was hexed from her feet and thrown backwards. Her wand flew from her hand as she landed.
"You sixameni!" the dark wizard screamed as he approached her, wand pointed at her face. "Poutana! Boutso gliftie mounotricha!"
"That kind of language is not necessary," said Luna calmly.
"You killed him!"
"I had to," Luna explained, propping herself up on her one good elbow. "He was suffering because of what you did."
"You killed my bird! My beautiful, beautiful bird!"
"He was suffering because of what you did, as well."
"You know nothing of suffering," the dark wizard spat. Whatever enchantment made his head appear the way it did, it ended only a few inches out, as Luna could see spittle flying from the man's invisible mouth. "But you will know now. BASANO!"
It was the kind of pain that could drive people mad. But Luna had felt it before. It was the same pain that had surged through her body in her Dark Arts classes under Amycus Carrow. The same pain she had felt countless times from the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange while being held prisoner in Malfoy Manor.
She felt it and she had learned to cope with it. Her mind remained clear, even as her limbs flailed helplessly beside her, and even as she heard Charles, still engaged with the cawing Stymphalian, scream her name.
Luna's opened her eyes and watched as a black shape flew over her. The pain abated. Still unsure of why it had, fully aware that another pulse could come at any minute. Madam Lestrange was one who loved to push someone to their limit, and then allow them just enough time to recouperate before continuing her torture. This man could be the same.
She pushed herself up to look at her opponent. The opponent, however, was no longer completely whole. Luna gasped as the wizard that Victoire had mentally deemed the Darkness Man was split in half, his legs and waist falling to the ground moments before his torso. His dark, square-jawed face, now visible as his enchantment was lifted at his death, wore a look of anger and surprise, as though he barely saw his doom coming until it was already past him, blowing into the stable tent's door flap with barely a rustle.
Alright, so that just happened, like I thought it might, Luna thought as she pushed herself to her feet. What's next?
"Help?"
Charles.
The death of the dark wizard seemed to have an adverse effect on the Stymphalian Birds. They appeared confused and disoriented, at least temporarily. Luna thought it was possible that the wizard had established some sort of mental link with the birds in order to use them more effectively. Now that that link had been severed, however...
Charles took the spare moment to pull his knees up to his chin, plant his feet on the bird's chest (he only grunted slightly as the feathers slashed his bare soles to ribbons), and pushed the bird off of him. With a thick ripping sound, the talons were torn from his bleeding chest, and the bird landed on the ground twenty feet away.
"Don't kill it," Luna said as Charles rolled over and picked up his wand.
"Like hell I won't," Charles said, pointing his wand at the bird, which was kicking itself back upright.
"Charles, there may be more of them," she said rationally. "We came here to research them and to tell the world of their danger. The Ministry would do better work with living specimens than dead."
Charles hesitated. At any second, the bird would strike again. If he was to decide--
"If these birds are killed, then they would have all died for nothing," said Luna. "Aim for the head."
"Petrificus Totalus."
The Stymphalian Bird squawked once more, briefly, before falling back to the ground as stiff as a taxidermist's dream. Luna turned to the third bird, who was still feasting on the remains of Gustav, and cast the same spell, adding a containment spell on top of it in order to hold the Stymphalian after it regained its bearings.
"What happened?" Charles asked as he got his first look at the dead dark wizard. "Who did this?"
"I don't know," said Luna as Charles kicked the corpse. "I saw something black fly past me and into the stable--"
"The stable--Vickie!" Charles yelled, turning on his bleeding heel towards the burning stable tent.
But he was too late.
Another hooded figure was crouched in front of the flaming tent, holding a wand in one hand and a large, elaborately-decorated spear in the other. A large hippogriff stood vigilantly beside him. Both were looking down at a body on the ground.
"Victoire," Luna gasped, walking forward. "No..."
"You get the fuck away from her!" Charles screamed at the figure.
"Calm yourself, Charles Weasley," the man said in a deep, almost soothing voice.
"Get away!"
A bright flash flew from Charles's wand, aimed directly at the figure. Without turning away from Victoire, the hooded man lifted his wand and deflected the spell into the forest, where it exploded against a tree.
"Calm yourself," the man repeated. "Victoire Weasley will live."
"She's alive," Luna sighed in relief.
"She sustained an injury when a beam fell on her head," said the man, standing up. Indeed, even though the light cast shadows over them, Luna could see a patch of Victoire's beautiful blond hair had been stained red. "I have healed the wound, and done what I could for the smoke inhalation, but she should not exert herself. The horses did not make it, but--"
"Great, lovely, fine," Charles snarled. "Now get the fuck away from her."
"I would not harm a hair on her head, Charles," said the man. "She is one of the Protected."
"Protected?" Luna asked.
"Killing a dozen wizards, attacking us with bloody Stymphalians, setting her hippogriff on fire," Charlie said, his voice rising again. "Is that what you call Protected, you sick fuck?"
"The Stymphalian attack was not my doing," the wizard said, turning to Charles and Luna. "I assure you, heads will roll for their folly."
"You're not one of them?" Luna asked. "Not one of these wizards?"
The wizard pulled back his hood, revealing something that caught even Luna off-guard. His face was a mask of solid gold, with a long, curling golden hair and a large shimmering beard. If it was a mask, though, it was enchanted: Golden eyelids blinked over golden pupils, and golden lips moved along golden teeth. Despite his flawless features, the wizard's face carried an aura of age and wisdom, as though they stood in the presence of some minor god.
"My name is Gungnir," the wizard stated. "I am the Mask of Trondheim, the protector of Scandinavia and the Baltic Sea, and of the Circle of Thirteen. I have come because Victoire Weasley is under our protection, and I have come because you have strayed onto our path. Now I offer you your options."
"We have done nothing," said Luna. "Gungnir, if you had nothing to do with the Stymphalians, we do not know what we have done to--"
"You find yourself in a favorable position, Luna Lovegood," Gungnir interrupted. "Most who find themselves before the Oligarchy--"
"Oligarchy?"
"--are left with but two options: assimilation or death. Many are not even given the choice. But we are aware of your past exploits. The both of you," he said, nodding to Charles, who continued to stand tense, his wand at the ready. "As a member of the Weasley family, and as a woman who played a remarkable role in the defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort, you are both highly regarded by the Oligarchy and by the Circle."
"Well, whoopie doo for us," said Charles from between clenched teeth.
"I ask you, humbly," said Gungnir, "to abandon your quest. Never again speak of the Stymphalian Birds, and live your lives in peace. If you would take the Unbreakable Vow--"
"Yeah, not going to happen," said Charles.
"It would be wise for you both," said Gungnir. "You will run a terrible risk--"
"You said you know me, right?" said Charles. "Know about the Weasley family?"
"I know much about them."
"Then you'd know I'm not the brightest bulb on the Weasley family Christmas tree."
"We cannot stop," said Luna. "Many have died, yes. My father has died. But there must be more names and faces behind this threat. More than the three birds we faced tonight. If we give up, Gungnir, how many more will die?"
"Next option," Charles snapped, his other hand now holding his wand hand aloft.
"Please pause to think, Charles--" said Gungnir.
"Already paused. Next option." Rivulets of blood ran down both of his arms and, for the first time, Luna noticed that one of his eyelids was shut. She hoped that it was merely swollen, but its shape made her think that the Stymphalian may have taken one of Charles's eyes along with his fingers. If so, the pain he must be feeling now would be excrutiating...
"You appear weakened, Charles," said Gungnir, as if reading Luna's thoughts. "Perhaps we should sit--"
"Next option!" Charles yelled. "And if it involves you stepping away from my niece and me kicking your arse, then I'm all for it."
"Join us," said Gungnir. "The Oligarchy would do well to have two members of such power and such esteem in their fold."
Charles paused. His brow furrowed. Of all of the statements, this was the one he had least expected. "Join you? Why? So we can help you hunt the Stymphalians, even after you told us to give them up?"
"If you join us," Gungnir explained. "You will learn the truth about the Stymphalians. You will be able to help us reveal the truth behind their masters to the entire world."
"No."
Charles turned around to face Luna, who stepped forward. "No, we will not join you, Gungnir. Not unless you answer me one question, and truthfully. I am already sure that I know the answer, but I want to hear it from you."
"You may ask, Luna Lovegood," said Gungnir warily.
"You stated that you had nothing to do with the Stymphalian attack tonight," she said. "Yet you did not answer my query about whether you are affiliated with these dark wizards. So I ask you this: Does the Oligarchy have anything to do with the Stymphalian attack, whether or not you were personally responsible for the deaths this evening?"
"A very simple question with a very complex answer," Gungnir started.
"The style of your cloak and hood matches those who have fallen," said Luna. "And you killed the man whose face was covered in darkness, yet you allowed the Stymphalians to survive, even while they attacked us. The answer is no, Gungnir. We will not join you, and we will continue on our search for the truth."
Gungnir sighed. "Very well."
"That would leave death as the final option, correct?" asked Luna. "Are we required to fight now?"
"I would wish nothing less, Luna Lovegood," said Gungnir. "Your life has been important to the magical world, and I would not cause your death. Do not force my hand..."
"We're at an impasse, Gunner," said Charles. "How about we go our separate ways to patch up and fight another day?"
"I'm afraid I cannot allow you to leave."
"Then I guess we fight."
"You will not renounce your quest..."
"Never," said Luna calmly.
"And you will not join us..."
"Hell no," said Charles.
"Then we shall battle," said Gungnir, blasting both Luna and Charlie into unconsciousness before either of them had time to even cast their first hex. "If that's what you want to call it," he sighed at the two unconscious bodies. Buckbeak, who had stood protectively by Victoire this entire time, reared angrily, huge talons flashing within inches of the Mask of Trondheim's golden face.
"Calm yourself," he said with a soothing voice, raising his spear as he spoke. "They shall live, as shall your Victoire. Allow me safe passage, hippogryphe, or they shall suffer greatly."
Buckbeak relented. He stared at the golden wizard with hatred in his eye as Gungnir returned to the center of the campsite. With one circular motion of his wand, then fires stopped and the smoke dissipated. Another stroke, and vines and undergrowth sprung up around the tents, concealing them from view. A third, and the bodies of the dead witches and wizards instantly decomposed, becoming fertilizer within seconds. A fourth, and the feathers scattered around the scene, as well as the corpse of the Stymphalian that Luna had killed, collected before him in a floating ball of blue light.
With one final stroke, the two living Stymphalian birds were released from their invisible prisons, and fluttered around the scene.
"Damn Dola," Gungnir muttered as he mounted his spear. "Leaving it to me to clean up her mess. Come at me, you lille satans! Come and kill me!" With that he fired two rounds of spells at each of the metallic birds, who immediately charged at him in anger. Kicking off, Gungnir rode his spear like a broomstick, flying off into the night, followed close behind by the two legendary creatures and his glowing ball of scraps.
---------
Victoire Weasley's head was pounding as she felt something hard poke at her face. Opening her eyes, she saw Buckbeak's face poking at her in the darkness.
"Beaky?" she muttered, touching his face. "You're... How did we...?"
She sat up, causing another spike to drive through her brain. She tried her best to push it aside. With two quick pats on the ground, Victoire discovered her wand lying next to her. "Lumos," she said, now realizing that her voice had returned.
The camp, which had been awash with blazing light just moments before, was pitch black and deathly still. She saw the remains of the tents, now covered in vines and weeds. But there were no bodies.
Except for two.
"Uncle Charlie!" she cried out, running to Charlie Weasley, who was lying on his back. First thing, she pressed her finger against his carotid artery. A pulse. Thank Merlin. He was covered in blood, and he was missing two fingers on each hand, but he was alive.
Charlie groaned, and Victoire couldn't help herself. She wrapped her arms around him, sobbing gratefully into his bleeding chest.
"You're alive," she sobbed. "You're..."
"Where am I?"
"You're in the forest," she said. "We're in Poland. What happened to the Darkness Man? Or the Stymphalians?"
"Stymphalians?" Charlie asked foggily.
"Did they fly off? Uncle Charlie--"
"Who's Charlie?" Charlie asked, and Victoire's heart stopped at the tone of his voice. This wasn't a head injury, or waking up from a dream.
"You're Charlie," said Victoire. "You're Charlie. Charlie Weasley. My Uncle Charlie."
"Never heard of him," said Charlie with a shake of his head. "Am I Polish?"
"No," Victoire groaned, falling back onto her bottom. "No, no, you have to remember! You're Charlie Weasley, Charles Weasley, you're my--"
"Where am I?"
Victoire looked over, and dread washed over her as she saw Luna Lovegood sit up. One arm was hanging limply at her side, and the same puzzled expression on her face.
"Where am I?" she asked the two Weasleys. "Who are you?
"Who am I?"
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