Dark Coil

Dark Coil Chapter Eleven

The Birth of the Goddess

Snape could feel the trembling in the wild body under his hand. The yellow-green eyes never left his, as the large cat lay wounded, possibly dying on the damp leaves of the Forbidden Forest.

"Olivia," he whispered again. "You must alter into your human form. Do it now, Olivia." Snape was unsure how much of Olivia's mind was functioning inside the panting animal. He moved his fingers slowly down the length of the warm, furred body. He tensed and ceased his inspection as a low rumbling leaked from the damaged creature. Moving cautiously, Snape eased away from the cat as it struggled to rise.

Olivia registered pain. Her entire body throbbed with exhaustion and bright flashes of hurt. She had watched the approach of the bastard who had done this to her. To think she had actually trusted him, pursued him like a foolish teenager under the spell of her first crush. She should have killed him while she had the chance. Her jaws had been locked around his windpipe. She had felt the fight, the life being squeezed from his body.

She had been unable to force herself complete the act. She would not kill. Not even him.

And he was here, crouching near her, his wand laid aside in an attempt to regain her trust. Fat chance that. When he slid his hand down the length of her body the anger began to boil out over her pain. She allowed a threatening growl to roll from her throat and slowly, painfully pushed her feline body erect.

Snape observed cautiously as the animal before him moved upright. Even after she was fully erect the body continued to rise, elongating, and a soft nimbus of white-blue light emanated from her changing form, filling the clearing with a smoky brightness.

Then the light was gone and Olivia stood swaying, her clothing torn and bloody, her body covered in jagged, oozing wounds. In her trembling right hand she clutched her wand. She held the gaze of the wizard, green eyes hard and cold. There was pain there in the verdigris pools, and disillusionment. Snape's soul cringed as he viewed the evidence of his attacks on her body and the loss of trust in her eyes. Would he ever be able to make her understand the necessity of what had transpired during the night, what still remained for him to do? Would he get the chance?

Continuing to face her, Snape stepped back several paces, calling his wand to his grip and instantly directing it at Olivia.

"Miss McGonagall, defend yourself," he ordered coldly, flicking black hair from his face with a toss of his head.

Olivia swayed, almost stumbled, but she never broke contact with his eyes.

"No." Her voice was raspy, but firm.

"You will defend yourself or, by Merlin, I will kill you where you stand," Snape growled low.

Olivia didn't even flinch. Snape watched in gut chilling horror as she slowly opened the fingers of her right hand and allowed the wand to fall to the ground.

"Do it," she whispered, looking directly into his face. Her eyes were green fire. "You had better be quick about it. It will be dawn soon."

"Miss McGonagall!" he roared, then stopped. His breathing was harsh and strained. She was calling his hand and he could see no way clear for either of them.

"Olivia," Snape pleaded, his voice finally breaking. "I cannot allow you to leave this wood until one of us has been defeated. You must defend yourself. Prove to me that you have the strength of will, the power to fulfill your destiny. Otherwise…" Snape ran his free hand over his face, feeling the tears he had not realized he was crying.

"You have tormented me, tortured me this entire night." Olivia's voice was a terrible hiss. "You promised to kill me if I failed this little test you brewed up with Uncle Albus. What are you waiting for? If you hurry, you will be back in time for breakfast." Her voice was still weak, but her words held the force of a hammer blow.

Snape continued to hold his wand at the ready. He was prepared to do as he had promised. And when he was finished, he would not be eating breakfast. He had an excellent little toddy brewed and bottled, nestled in his pocket. She would not go alone into the next world. Although, he reasoned dryly, she would more than likely not appreciate his company.

"You had the chance, Olivia." The tormented wizard pointed out. "You had the opportunity to save yourself a few moments ago. I was down, beaten. You were foolish to show mercy. I will… can give none to you."

"I am not the killer you are, Professor. I felt the twisted pleasure you took from the hunt. You enjoyed each scream you tore from me. You got off on it! I will never sink that low, never. Not even to save myself." Olivia pulled her torn body more erect, her head high.

Lavender light was moving through the clearing. Birds were beginning to call salutations in the boughs of the trees. A freshening breeze lifted tangled wisps of Olivia's hair and she closed her eyes, lifting her face into the moving air. A tingle, like mint shimmed along her arms and down the sweat soaked material of her back. I'm going to miss this, she reflected sadly. She opened her eyes again to regard the potions master, his wand steady in his hand. A tiny smile quirked at the corners of her lips.

"I wanted so much to love you."

Snape screamed in frustrated rage. "Damn you, woman! Will you or will you not defend yourself?" only to howl again as once more she shook her head.

"Oh gods! Oh gods, why have I been chosen for this task?" The raging wizard swayed, caught himself and hurled his fury at the quiet witch before him. "I cannot let you leave here weak and unprepared. I will not turn my face away and allow you to run headlong to destruction because you refuse to accept the course destiny has charted for you! Olivia, you must not become his bride." His voice cracked, but held conviction.

At his words, Olivia turned her eyes away. "I refuse to fight you."

"You can stop me, you know you have the power. Remember Malfoy and the wand. You told him to give it to you. He did! He placed his only channel for magic into your hands! Olivia, a wizard never gives up his wand simply because he is told to do so! Don't let me kill you, Olivia!"

"I don't know how!" she wailed.

"You do! Now, by the gods, STOP ME!"

"I don't want to be that per…" she was crying loudly, screaming over his demands.

"Pick up your wand and defend yourself, you bawling bitch!" Snape growled. An excruciating pain had centered its self in his chest, threatening to blast outwards and cast his heart upon the damp ground.

"I want to live!" Olivia shrieked, her hands clutched into fists at her breast.

"That's too damn bad," Snape whispered, the killing spell trembling on his lips.

The force of the blow lifted the black robed wizard from the ground and hurled him across the clearing, his wand flying from his hand. He slammed against the unforgiving trunk of a massive oak and crumbled to a heap at its roots. His vision was blurred and there was a horrid ringing in his ears, as if he were standing in a massive bell tower as the hour was being struck. A horrific numbness had set in at the back of his skull and was slithering its way down his spine and into his extremities. Through the haze of pain Snape saw the shape of Olivia moving towards him across the clearing. She looked so far away! He shook his head in attempt to clear the fog that wrapped around his brain. Gods, how had he gotten all the way over here?

An unseen hand gripped him by the throat and lifted his limp form to his feet, then continued on until Snape was dangling in air, his toes just inches from the ground. He brought his hands up to battle with whatever held him, but he encountered only air.

As he struggled to free himself, to call for his wand, Olivia continued her slow advance, her empty wand hand extended towards him. Snape ceased his grappling with the unseen force as the reality of what he was seeing jelled in his brain.

Olivia was not holding her wand.

She was casting, yet she was not using a wand. She was tapping into her powers.

A tiny trickle of relief leaked into his senses, but he acknowledged that his present circumstances were still tenuous.

The battered witch approached the dangling wizard with a look of innocent amazement on her face. Her green eyes traveled up the form hanging suspended before her to the hand she held out from her body.

Tentatively, she raised the pale appendage higher. The dangling wizard politely rose a few feet. Olivia made note of this and then rapidly swung her hand to the right.

Snape flew like a monstrous crow across the clearing.

The sharp crack of the raven head against a low hanging bough was almost drowned out by a thunderous bellow from the hurtling black shroud.

Thoughtfully, Olivia brought Snape to hang before her. A trickle of blood ran down the side of his face. His eyes were snapping in pain-filled rage.

"Woman! What do yo…" His voice was cut off abruptly.

"Oh, shut up for a moment, will you, Professor Snape?" Olivia requested calmly. She left him suspended before her. Curiously, testing the effect, she closed her hand and lowered it to her side. Snape remained dangling like a villain puppet in a child's play.

"Hmmm. That is interesting." Olivia tapped her upper lip with a dirty finger. She noticed the condition of her hand. Spreading her arms wide, her green eyes moved over the many burns, cuts, and bruises.

Hesitantly, she placed fingertips over her aching ribs. Closing her eyes, Olivia was amazed that she could 'see' the damage in her mind. Myriad tiny fissures were running along two of her ribs and the surrounding tissue was stained dark by ruptured capillaries. Pausing, she attempted to understand the damage. She did not have the training, she would need to seek Poppy's help when she got back to the castle.

Snape watched as Olivia laid her fingers lightly on her ribs, her eyes drifted shut and her brow furrowed in concentration. She seemed to be probing for something that eluded her. Slowly shaking her head Olivia opened her eyes and studied the other hurts. The burns on her forearm and right hip were the most painful and she murmured a cleaning charm carefully blending in a healing charm. The wet, bloody marks began to dry and mend, the flesh fading from angry red, to bright pink, finally to a pearly white. Snape wanted to shout out his joy at what she was accomplishing, but the charm she placed on his voice refused to allow anything save air to escape his throat.

The worst of her injuries healed, Olivia turned and moved back across the clearing, scanning the ground. She located her wand and, bending gingerly at the knees, squatted to pick it up. The young woman looked at the shining shaft of wood. Honeylocust, seventeen and three-quarter inches, fox fur core. She had purchased it with money Minerva had sent for her tenth birthday. Until this morning it had never left her side. In her heart Olivia knew she had no use for the wand any longer. Never actually needed it in the first place. The power, the magic was a part of her. It flowed through her veins, sang in the very cell of her body. She had no need for this external channel.

Turning, Olivia made her way back to the dangling wizard, calling his wand to her hand as she went. She was pleased to see that Snape had ceased his struggles against her hovering charm. It had made him look foolish, all that thrashing around. The silencing charm had come in handy. She might get a chance to use it again before this was all over with. The thought made her smile.

She was still smiling as she approached Snape and recognized the fear in his coal black eyes before he swiftly pushed it away. Olivia couldn't refuse the desire to prick him one last time before setting him free. Holding those fathomless black eyes with her own, Olivia casually tossed her wand into the air speaking calmly, "Annihilate."

Her wand exploded with a resounding CRACK, the residue falling like dust to the leaf littered ground. Snape cocked one fine black brow.

Impressive.

"I can only hope that you are finished with this little exercise. I have no desire to hurt you, Sever…" She caught herself. "Professor Snape." Olivia was twirling his wand through her fingers like a baton. "But I will not allow you to damage me further. Do you understand?"

He nodded.

"Oh, you can talk now," she informed Snape, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

Damn, he thought to himself, does nothing ever get her down? No, of course not. She was the fresh day a-dawning, Spring personified. Even dirty and damaged, the pure, clean life force flowed from her in waves.

"I will make no more moves against you, Miss McGonagall." If she wanted to return to formality now, so be it. Who was he to argue with a goddess?

"Do you think I might be let down now?" he inquired, pointing to the ground as he spoke.

His body floated gently down until his feet were once more touching earth. She extended the hand holding his wand. He took it from her and smoothly, quickly tucked it away.

Olivia continued to regard the imposing wizard before her. He could see the questions in her eyes, almost hear them bubbling from her pale pink lips. He was not to be disappointed.

"Did Uncle Albus really tell you to kill me? Is he that frightened of what I could become?"

"I doubt the headmaster has ever been frightened of anything," Snape told her, his voice low, a soothing black velvet caress. "After an interesting revelation from Maxwell Dillard concerning your shapeshifting talent, I confronted Dumbledore. Dillard has no love for you, by the way."

"As if I care. Go on."

"We had a very long, disturbing conversation, Albus, Minerva and I. They told me of your birth, who you truly are. They had an extremely difficult time of it, but they finally convinced me of the threat not only to you, but to everyone who opposes Voldemort."

Olivia was looking up into the trees, watching the birds make their way from one branch to the next, calling to each other in delighted bird song.

"Brigit?" Snape whispered.

Her eyes snapped back to his. "Don't call me by that name."

"That is who you are," he reasoned.

"Yea, but I don't have to like it." She sighed. "You haven't answered my question."

He nodded.

"Dumbledore asked if I would be willing to help you see reason, as it were. We all agreed that until you willingly embraced your true self and learned to use the powers you have possessed since birth, you would be no match for Voldemort when he came to claim you. The--hm--manner of your instruction, was left up to me." He watched her face grow hard as he said this. "Olivia, I am not a patient man. Our time grows short. Voldemort is on the rise. His powers grow each day. Even now, he is creating some spell, I don't know what it is, but it frightens me." He ran a slender hand through his hair, sighing deeply. He took a step towards her and was relieved when she didn't back away. Slowly as not to frighten her, he raised his hand and gently stroked a finger down her cheek. "The decision to kill you if you did not relent was mine." Her features remained hard and now her lips thinned into an angry line. Snape continued, his voice strained. "I would not see you as bride to the King of Hell, Olivia. And before you ask, no, I don't think you would have possessed the strength to resist him. Your body would have submitted to him willingly, even as your soul screamed itself into madness for all eternity. I would rather you dead at my feet by my own hand than have you suffer his embrace." His hand fell to his side.

"Your mother and uncle would have sent you into exile, attempting to hide you. I deemed that route to be a failure. He would seek you out, turn over mountains to find you. He would crack the world and sift the soil through his black, rotting fingers until he winnowed you out. There would be no escaping him, Olivia. I felt I had no choice. I neither expect or deserve your forgiveness." Ebony eyes sought and held hers and Olivia could read the pain of his choice in their bottomless depths. With a swirl of black cloth, Snape turned and made his way back through the forest.

Olivia watched him go. How does he do that WHOOSH-thing? she wondered.

Already she could feel her anger and fear of him slipping away. His audacity, and that of Minerva and Dumbledore, had fanned the flames of her rage. That they should take it upon themselves to force her into this role had caused a maddening desire for revenge to wrap its self about her heart. But it could not take hold there.

Oh, she wanted to latch on to her anger, groped for it with desperate hands, but it was not in her nature to withhold forgiveness. It flowed from her just as a well bubbles up from the earth. It, was her natural inclination to laugh and frolic, tease and entice. She was the Lady of Three Waters, the bearer of Spring, the goddess of fire born again with each sunrise. In her right hand she carried the holly staff, in her left, a rod of iron. She was born to bring life, forgiveness and love.

And right now, all of that really pissed her off.

Sighing heavily, Olivia followed the trail Snape took back to the castle.

************************************************************************

Wormtail skittered to a halt, remembering to drop to hands and knees as he approached the black, stinking thing that was Voldemort. The wizard's hands shook as he reached out and grasped the hem of the Dark Lord's robe, placing a kiss on the foul material.

"I heard your call, Master," the cowering bundle mewed. He closed his eyes in dark ecstasy as the hand of his master stroked down his head. Like a cringing dog, Wormtail sat at his master's feet.

"She has been born, my Wormtail!" came a triumphant hiss from above the wizard's bowed head. "This dawning I heard her birth cry. My beloved. My queen." The black, rotted hand continued to stroke the trembling creature before him. "The flames on her altar exploded into life as the goddess touched her true self. Soon," he moaned, "she will be mine." Voldemort's voice faded.

The man at his feet risked a glance up into the face of evil. The Dark Lord's eyes were closed, his blood red tongue rasped slowly over near fleshless black lips. The demonic face was contorted into terrifying ecstasy as his other hand began a horrible dance under the fetid black robes.

Wormtail waited in tantalizing dread for the command to service his master, but it did not come this time. Soon he felt the body near him jerk and spasm violently as a terrifying scream signaled Voldemort's release.

"You wish me to fetch her, Master?" Wormtail's voice shook. He would do anything this one asked of him.

"No, my faithful one. I know not where she is. She must be sought and brought to me that I might woo her." An insane laugh filled the dark chamber. "I will call my Death Eaters to me. They will hunt for my lovely and bring her to me. You will feed the flames on the altar of our goddess. They must be kept burning for her arrival. You know what is required. Begone!"

"Yes, my Lord!" Wormtail sighed, kissed the tattered robes once more before crawling backwards from the chamber.

Voldemort did not watch him go. He was sending out his call. Tonight, the Dark Mark would burn on the flesh of his devoted servants. The pain would be unrelenting. To deny the call would be courting death. He would see who would respond to the summons.

~~~~~~~~~~

Oooo, that scared me! For all of you who were wondering when the scary stuff was coming, here it is.

Please read and respond. I live for your feedback. Those of you kind enough to review have been a great help. Huggs and kisses to you and yours.