Iuga Sortis (Bound By Destiny)

Nineteen

The Transfiguration classroom seemed to follow its name, going from a loud, rambunctious room during the day to a quiet, serene one after hours.

"I didn't think you'd come."

"Yeah, Ginny all but cornered me earlier today. I figure I'd have to confront this sooner or later. Might as well be now. Besides, I have to go to the library after this anyway."

"Confront? You're my sister, not my enemy."

"That wasn't the impression I got when we first found out . . ."

Angelina inhaled deeply. "About that--"

"How have you been?" Nia asked quietly.

Angelina looked at her a moment before answering. "I've been sad, because I haven't spoken with my sister since term started."

Nia let out her breath in a whoosh and sat down at a desk. "You are a seventh year, and in a different house . . ."

"That never stopped us from meeting before."

"I just--I just wasn't ready to face you. Especially after what Cal--I mean Dad--I mean what my father said."

Angelina frowned. "What did he say?"

"He said I was a mistake."

"What?"

"Ask Professor Snape; he was there."

"Please tell me our father didn't say that . . ."

"Wish I could, but I can't."

"But surely you know I don't think that . . ."

"Like I said, you were pretty upset with me when we found out."

"It was my first reaction."

"Those are usually the most honest."

Angelina looked at her in awe. "When did you become so wise?"

"That's not wise. That's something my grandma told me," Nia said with a grin. "If she is my grandma. At this rate I wouldn't be surprised if I were adopted. Oh, wait. I was . . ."

"You are my sister, Nia. I love you. I'll admit the news was a bit of a shock, but I was more upset at my parents for keeping the secret from us. You're just a much safer target for my frustration."

"And yet the one who's probably suffered the most."

Angelina looked guilty. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too."

"It's not your fault, Nia."

"It feels like it is."

Angelina sat down next to her and put an arm around Nia's shoulders. She tensed before leaning into the embrace.

"I've missed you," Nia admitted.

"Me as well, love, me as well."

They hugged each other. "This is a bit uncomfortable with the desk in the way . . ."

Angelina laughed heartily. "Leave it to you to ruin a tender moment."

"Too much fluff makes me ill."

"You sound just like your father," Angelina laughed.

"Caleb?"

Angelina immediately stopped laughing. "Actually . . . I was thinking Professor Snape . . ."

"You know?"

She nodded. "He called Draco and me to talk. He was flipping through a photo album."

"What photo album?"

Angelina sighed. "It's a photo album from before you were born. Mom, Dad, Cousin Malika--they were all in it. They looked so happy . . ."

"And I had to go and ruin it."

"Did Malika and Professor Snape ever have problems as far as you knew?"

"No. But then again they never argued in front of me. Mama would give him the silent treatment whenever she was angry, though. That was an art she learned from Grandma. It drove him crazy!"

"I'm sure it did!" Angelina laughed.

"I think Mama was sad he had to be England for most of the year while we were stuck in the States. I often asked why we couldn't come over here, but she would always change the subject."

"She moved back to South Carolina right before you were born. She said it was to help Aunt Jamilah, but I think it had something to do with you."

"I'm sure it did."

"No, I don't mean like that. I mean, there's something more to this story than we know."

"That's a given, Angie."

"Has Snape told you anything else?"

"No. He said something about it not being the time."

Angelina frowned. "Time? Time for what?"

"I don't know; I'm afraid to know."

"I'll be there for you, Nia. You don't have to go through this alone."

Nia smiled at her. "Thanks, Big Sis."

"I like that coming from you," Angelina said.

"You say that now."

They laughed, and Nia stood. "Library time?" Angelina asked.

"Yup. Gotta do some research."

"On what?"

"History."

Angelina groaned. "Oh dear. Professor Binns is an absolute bore. I'm glad I don't have to suffer through that class anymore."

"I have a feeling this particular assignment won't nearly be so dull."

"I hope so, for your sake," Angelina said, shrugging.

They stood and walked out of the classroom.

"So, we're good now?" Nia asked.

"We're good. I mean it. You're not alone in this; I'm right there with you."

"I know." Nia hugged her again. "Good luck getting the Quidditch Cup, by the way."

"From your mouth to Merlin's ears, Nia."

"Do you need me to yell?"

"No. If he answered my silent wish to make up with you, I'm sure he'll answer yours, as well."

Fifth year had officially been shot to hell.

Harry groaned as he plopped in the chair at a secluded table in the library. Snape had just yelled him out of his latest and last Occlumency lesson, and Harry didn't know whether to be relieved or fearful. Not that he was making much progress anyway--the dreams continued to come--but now he felt more vulnerable to Voldemort than ever before.

If only I hadn't looked in that Pensieve . . .

The thought wasn't entirely charitable on Snape's part; if Harry never looked into the Pensieve, he would still have an unsullied impression of his father. James Potter, the man Harry thought was valiant, good, and just was nothing more than a bully--at least according to Snape's memory. Harry had never felt more shame of the Potter name than when he saw his father lift Snape in the air and--well, he didn't know exactly what, for Snape had pulled him out then--but the intention was clear. His father was mean because he could be, not because someone attacked him first.

And my mother! Why would she marry my father when she clearly didn't like him then . . .?

What he first noticed about Lily Evans were her eyes--the same eyes that stared back at him whenever he looked in the mirror. She was compassionate--still defending Snape, even after he called her a Mudblood. Harry didn't know if he had it in him to do the same. He caught his reflection in the window, the candlelight giving a soft texture to it.

I look every bit like my father . . . and I act like him, as well.

No wonder why Snape hated him so! He finally understood Snape's animosity toward him, and begrudgingly felt pity for the older man.

He didn't like that one bit.

His head fell into his hands in defeat and wondered why the new year was getting progressively worse.

In the span of three months, Death Eaters and Dementors escaped from Azkaban, Dumbledore's Army was disbanded, Dumbledore himself left Hogwarts, Umbridge became Headmistress of Hogwarts, and she formed the Inquisitorial Squad--capable of giving and removing house points--with Malfoy and company premiere members.

There were a few bright moments--the printing of The Quibbler with his expose of Voldemort's return being high on the list. Professors awarded house points for him breathing at times, and Seamus Finnegan became his friend again--even Cho and he made reasonable amends, though the butterflies weren't as pronounced as before. But seeing Malfoy and his friends squirm made his life bearable--borderline pleasant even.

But not anymore; his life was anything but pleasant now.

He sighed and flattened his arms on the table to rest his head on them. He closed his eyes, hoping for a few minutes of escape from his current situation.

The cool blade pressed against his jugular lightly, but he dared not move.

"Where do you think you are going?"

He gulped, feeling the cool metal press closer against his skin.

"Uh . . . ."

"You'd do well to heed your words carefully, my lord. It wouldn't do well if my sword happened to . . . slip . . ."

The body pressed closer against his back, and he stifled a groan. Between the weapon at his throat and the weapon at his back, thought was a hard thing to come by.

And that wasn't the only thing 'hard.'

The other hand slid around his bare torso and splayed over his abdomen. The fingers began a light caress, sending ripples throughout his body.

He stifled a groan.

"My lord becomes weak?" There was a throaty laugh--the laugh of a woman all too sure of her power.

Goddess be damned.

He jutted his elbow into her abdomen, gaining enough room to maneuver out of her grasp. He ran to where his sword lay and picked it up quickly. Once again they were level--weapons ready to fight.

"Impressive escape, my lord."

He smirked. "Not nearly as impressive as the capture, my Queen."

A corner of her mouth quirked. "One would think you wanted the capture."

"I've already been captured, my Queen, though the weapon used was far more powerful than the sword you hold."

Recognition made her golden eyes molten, and her face grew serious. "My lord, now is not the time to speak of such matters."

"No time like the present; you never know what the future may hold."

She snorted.

"Well, you do . . ."

"I do not! I only see what Ra allows me to see. And as of late, it has been very little," she said dejectedly.

"I wish I had your luck. My dreams haunt me so . . ."

"My lord, what do you dream?" Her sword fell to her side, and his stance relaxed as well. She walked towards him and sat down, patting the space next to her. He smiled sadly and followed suit.

"My lord, is it necessary for you to remain in battle mode while we talk?"

There was humor in her voice, and he chuckled, his lion-head changing to his human one.

"That is better," she murmured as she ran a palm over his sun-kissed skin. He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly, leaning in to her caress.

"My Queen, you disarm me with a simple touch . . . a simple breath . . ."

He immediately felt empty and cold as her hand left his cheek. "Apedemak . . ."

"I know, I know, not the time," he muttered, frustration lacing his voice. He glanced over at her and noticed she didn't seem too thrilled either.

"It really isn't the time, but it will come."

Apedemak had a feeling that was a loaded comment. "The time for what? For us to talk about how we cannot have the relationship we want, or for us to be in the relationship we want?"

"Tell me about your dream," she commanded, avoiding the question.

He knew well not to press her. "I dream of Thanatos, and of your brother . . . they are out to get me."

"You knew this before . . ."

"Yes, but the details are vivid. I see a great battle--a very bloody battle, my Queen. There will be significant casualties on both sides; I will die . . ."

"Do not say such things!"

"They are out to get me, because I am your strongest ally. I'm a pawn, Isis. The real prize is you."

"I am not a trophy, Apedemak. I am my own woman, my own goddess. No brother of mine or Underworld lord will win me because they want a plaything."

Apedemak shook his head; clearly she did not understand. "Thanatos wants power, Isis, but Set is the one who really worries me. He's wanted you since before you were born--he cares little that you are his sister. He's as depraved and sadistic as anyone that has ever been created. He will not rest until he has you under his control . . . and in his bed."

"He will be a weary god before he dies then."

"This is not a game, Isis."

"I know it's not. It's a war."

"They've already gotten Osiris."

"They will not get you--that I guarantee."

"Thoth allowed you to bring Osiris back from the dead one time; he will not grant you that power again. The next time your brother dies, he will stay dead."

"It is as the Fates proclaim."

"What if I die, Isis?"

"I won't let you. You're too important to me."

"As you are to me."

"Let's not talk of such matters . . ."

"But they must be discussed."

She stood then, picking up her sword and walking away from him. She practiced careful strokes, a primal dance that looked so very beautiful to him. Suddenly she stopped and held it out before her. The sword changed into an ebony bo stick--a favorite weapon of hers. She twirled it deftly in her hands, and Apedemak was awed that something as simple as a stick could inflict so much damage. Then again, the woman wielding it was a major cause of its effectiveness.

"You are truly a sight to behold, my Queen," he murmured, standing slowly as he watched her. She seemed not to hear him, still working the staff as if it were an extension of herself. Apedemak changed into battle mode and lifted his blade, striking down on her staff. The adamatnium sliced through her stick as if it was silk, but Isis was not deterred. She whirled the sticks in her hands for a better grip and cut through the air, one half catching the backs of his knees while the other smashed against his chin. Apedemak roared and fell to the ground with a heavy thud, the wind knocked out of him. Through the haze he saw Isis put the two sticks together, and they blended into her sword again. She held out her right hand, and his own left his side and went to her. Before he could fully sit up, she pounced, flying towards him and straddling his torso, a sword on either side of his neck.

"So . . . the Mighty Apedemak falls before me, hmm?" she asked, far too full of herself. His head reverted back to human, and his hands grasped her wrists, pushing them away and bringing her torso flush against his. Their noses were barely touching, and his gaze turned serious.

"No, my Queen. I fell for you." He dropped his eyes to her lips and began to close the space between them.

"What are you doing?!"

Harry opened his eyes and found his face in someone's palm, his lips in a pucker. He jerked his head back in surprise, putting his hand on his mouth in shock. He saw her there and didn't know if she was trying not to laugh or beat him to a bloody pulp. Harry guessed it was a little of both.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, scanning his surroundings before looking back at her.

"It's a library! Most people come here to read, but you on the other hand . . ."

It was then Harry remembered coming here to avoid going to the Tower and falling asleep. "What did I do?"

"You roared, rather loudly I may add . . ."

Harry groaned. "At least I didn't dream about Voldemort this time," he muttered absently.

"One would hope you ain't tryin' to kiss Voldemort!" she chuckled.

He raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Actually, I was trying to kiss you."

She stopped laughing.

"Huh?"

"Um--well ah--not you exactly, but she did look much like you," Harry stammered.

"You dream about me?"

The last thing he wanted to do was scare her off. "No! Not you! It can't possibly be you . . ."

"But she looks like me?"

"Yeah . . .but it's odd. The man in my dream is supposed to be me, and yet he doesn't look a thing like me . . ."

There was a look of fascination her face, and she sat down beside him. "What do you look like then?"

"I'm taller for one . . . much darker skin; broader, and I have two heads--"

"You have two heads?!"

"Not at the same time! I have a human head when I'm not fighting and then it changes into a lion's head when I do--"

It was her intake of breath that made Harry's heart beat faster.

"Freaky . . ." she breathed, her eyes wide.

"Freaky? What's freaky? What does that mean?" he asked quickly.

She didn't answer him. She pulled out a book from her bag flipped the pages until she found the one she wanted. Silently she put it before him.

"Read."

Harry's breath became shallow as he read the page. "This was a real god?"

"Yeah. Apedemak is the Nubian god of war and victory and protector of the pharaohs. He was the principal god of Nubia for centuries."

Harry touched the pages delicately.

"Where did you find this book?"

"Dumbledore gave it to me."

Harry found that odd, but he put it out of his mind. "I thought I was making him up . . . may I borrow it? I promise I'll return it--"

"Actually, I'm not finished with it yet . . ."

Harry was crestfallen. "Oh. Uh, well then . . ." He cleared his throat.

She perked up. "Easter break is soon, right? Why don't we meet here at certain times, and we'll share the book?"

"I don't know . . . it could cause quite a scandal--a Gryffindor and a Slytherin sharing something!"

"You should be used to scandal!" she teased, then immediately slapped her hands over her mouth.

"Yeah, I guess I should be . . ."

"I am so sorry, Harry! I didn't mean for it to come out like that . . ."

"You called me Harry," he said with a grin.

"That's your name, isn't it?"

"And yours is Nia." He didn't know how it happened, but suddenly they were nose to nose, his green eyes staring into her amber ones. "Isis . . ."

She shot up from her chair and hastily gathered her belongings. Harry grabbed her wrist, stilling her movements.

"Let me go, Harry."

"You've had dreams about it as well, haven't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said quickly.

Harry stood, his eyes and hand never leaving her. "You're lying. There's something going on between us, Nia, and you know it. You knew it when we first met in front of the Great Hall all those months ago and when you met me in the courtyard after the Quidditch game against Slytherin. Fate is trying to tell us something."

Nia sighed. "And just what do you think that is, huh?"

"I don't know, but I know we have to find out--together."