Harry, Draco and Ron 2: Crusade of the Rainbow

Chapter One. The Warlocks, the Sorcerer and the Revenant.

On the road to Hell,

There's wind and the movement,

There's no way to stop, the blood'll be gone before sunrise,

The Black Rider goes,

In his jet-black armour,

And dead empty is the road to Paradise...

- Aria, "Follow Me".

Hermione Granger had an awful night. First, she could not fall asleep. Then when she finally found the sleep that she had been yearning for, she had an awful nightmare...

She dreamt that she was someplace unearthly... In a great fortress, built underground, hideous creatures of monstrous looks on its walls, and dozens of banners portraying the same face... She would not dare look at it, for the face was her own, although older, and that face was not a very friendly one.

She was standing in the highest tower of that fortress, surveying her kingdom... And she liked what she saw. Fires of Hell burning on the walls instead of torches, the rebels hung by their necks along the roads on virtually every tree in sight, and the demons... Ah, the fine demon army amassed at the very gates of her fortress... The gift her Lord sent her for her success in defeating his enemies.

"You shall make a fine Warlock Queen, my dear," he said in his low and inhuman voice.

"Let us hope I shall live long enough to do so. You know how those filthy wizards detest Us," she replied as she turned around, looking at her master. The ruler of Darkness, he before whom even the oh-so-feared Voldemort bows as lowly vermin... The one she talks to as an equal.

"They are no threat. With the Potter boy dead, nothing can stop Us now, my dear."

"Is he dead yet?" she asked of her master, trying to understand why that phrase felt so... so... alien to her.

"My servants will see to that in the nearest future..."

*****

She woke up in cold sweat. Harry? Dead? And herself... a servant of Hell? A... a... warlock?

She jumped up from her bed, switching the light in her room on and searching through her small, yet quite informative library of wizard-world books.

"Warlocks, warlocks... Wardens, warcries... Oh, here it is! Warlocks..."

The book fell out of her hands as Hermione Granger collapsed onto the floor unconscious from what she saw.

*****

He was standing tall now, letting the rain wash the mud from his body, his mind thinking rapidly.

"I know who did it; I know who they are fighting, so I know who to go to, right?" he asked himself.

"Wrong! You don't even know if in this state you could see through that magical barrier that stops non-wizards! What will you do then?" the more sceptical part of his mind replied.

"Fine, what do we do then?"

"We? Maybe you?"

"Well, it was your--"

He stopped. Having a mental fight with your own mind was entertaining enough, especially after seventeen or so years of being a ghost. But the point was there - he was not quite sure if in this undead form he could appear as a normal living person, not to mention the fact of seeing through those Muggle-repelling charms... He was in his old body now, he was not magical, he was technically a Muggle, and so he could not get into any wizard-world areas...

What would he do then? How would he gain the revenge he wanted so badly that he had somehow managed to rise from his improvised grave? He forced those questions aside, and looked around himself...

*****

Harry and Max reached the Den by the morning of the 31^st of July, Harry's birthday. Upon leaving the car, they saw a quite interesting sight: Sirius balancing between hexing Draco away and helping Remus get up from the puddle of mud. Apparently, this was Draco's fault, as everything seemed to be one way or the other.

"What in the name of Ner'Zhul and Tichondrius is going on in here?" Max asked with a grin as he looked at this mischief.

"Hello, Bones," said Remus as he got up, "We're bringing a known mischief-maker to justice."

"Known mischief-maker?" Harry asked with a laugh, "Says who?"

"Touché," Sirius exclaimed as he hid his wand and helped Remus clean himself up.

"Hello, Potter."

"Well, hello there, Malfoy."

After the deathly-necessary exchange of sneers, drawls and frowns, the two boys shook hands, exchanging grins and winks.

"So, your Muggles still trying to keep you in a state of slavery, Harry?" Sirius asked, &ldqu;Just one word, and a certain evil Grim shall pay them a visit!"

"No, Sirius, I think that would be too evil," Harry replied, "Besides, they acted a bit quieter after they saw the size of my sword," he added as he hugged his godfather.

"So, it was rusting someplace in your trunk all the time?" Draco asked with a smirk.

"Nah, I tried practicing it two or three times, just not to lose the hang of it," Harry replied with a wave of his hand that was supposedly showing a sword swing, "But when they saw me with a sword trying to get out into the open - so that I could practice calmly - they thought I was out to commit mass murder or something. To tell you the truth, I was this short from fulfilling their expectations!" he added merrily, his fingers just a fraction apart, as to show how probable him committing mass murder was, "Hey, just joking!" he added quickly as he saw the stares Remus and Sirius gave him.

"Alright, let's get in, then you can continue telling us your horrid battles with Muggles, Harry!" said Remus as he and Max heaved Harry's trunk into the house. Harry carried Hedwig's cage while Draco and Sirius were exchanging some kind of subdued whispers, obviously with intentions that were not exactly nice to someone. And it sure sounded like that someone wore a pair of round spectacles.

Their intentions were revealed the very moment Harry entered, since the snow they somehow forced down his shirt provoked a lot of cussing and waving arms about in meaningless motions. Judging by the colour on the faces of the man and boy standing behind him, Harry knew who did it instantly, drawing his wand...

******

...When they all finally got rid of the feathers and the fur it was already past noon and they all were quite tired from this spellcasting exercise. After all, trying to hex tar and feathers onto each other for several hours straight was a draining activity.

"Can I get a shower?" Harry asked weakly as he forced the green and yellow parrot feathers off himself once more, "And I would like one that won't turn me into anything," he added seriously as he looked at Sirius. His godfather made a face that was halfway from "Who, me?" to "Sure... not!"

As Harry went up the stairs towards the bathroom, as Remus instructed him, he heard a muffled spell cast behind his back. He could not quite make the words out, but it was obvious that either Sirius or Draco still had a nasty sense of humour. One way or the other, the spell hit his back and...

Nothing happened. He felt it hit, he had already braced for impact, expecting to sprout feathers or the like, but nothing happened, nothing at all. Except maybe that feeling of invigoration...

He turned around.

"What was that?" he asked.

"What was what, Harry?" Sirius asked with a serious face.

"Why aren't you all in feathers?" Draco asked with a surprised expression on his face.

"I don't know... and I think I don't even want to know it," Harry replied.

*****

Several hours later, they all were sitting around the kitchen table, eating - and the recently-arrived Hermione, Ron and Cho were there as well. The presence of the first two was not surprising, but Cho... Not only did Harry feel a bit awkward with her sitting next to him in front of everyone here, he also felt that he could not ease himself up in any way he tried... And there was a reason for it.

"Er... Hermione, Cho, I know you two know practically everything about the theory of magic," he started, making Hermione go even paler than she already was (she claimed it was a recent sickness still wearing off) while Cho raised an eyebrow in a questioning manner, "So tell me how can this be: this morning Draco tried to hex me. The spell hit me, but did nothing, nothing at all..." he said, "Except making me feel better than I was, but we all knew that it wasn't a strengthening spell he did," he added hastily, winking at Draco, "Any ideas, girls?"

"Well... Sorcerers can absorb the energy of spells sent at them, but it is said that they all died out about a century ago..." Cho said slowly, as if trying to understand the words she herself was saying, "So I suppose you can't be one, Harry..." she concluded, "Or can you?"

"I have no idea, that's exactly why I'm asking," Harry replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Wait... If you say that this is what happened..." Hermione started, but then suddenly became silent again, although the eyes of others directed at her seemed to make her more talkative than she seemed to want to be...

*****

...They all were silent for a while after she told them about the dream and the book.

"...Those warlocks - they're an extinct order of magic users, as extinct as sorcerers, and also both were very famous once for their cruelty and service to the Darkness," she finished.

"So... that makes it that you and I are representing the extinct kinds of Dark Magic bearers?" Harry asked with a shudder. Hermione nodded, making him feel worse suddenly. He looked at Cho, but she seemed to be occupied with thinking something over.

"How come you're a warlock then, Hermione?" Ron asked, his face clearly showing that he did not accept Satan as the one to blame for this.

"Well... remember last year? After Mal-- Draco beat me in the tournament?" she asked and, when everyone nodded, continued "Well, I spent all this time in the library learning ways of increasing my magical powers... And... Well, I tried out several of those spells and incantations..."

"You WHAT?" Ron screamed, jumping up from his seat.

"Well, I felt bad after being beaten, so I wanted to get back at him and--"

"And sell your soul to the Lord of all Evil? Some nice way of getting back at someone!" Ron protested, "Why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because... Well... I knew you wouldn't have approved of it..." she replied shyly, lowering her gaze to the floor.

"...Um, excuse me, Ron. I know this is rather important and all, but don't you think that until the reason why Hermione is a... well... whatever she is now... is certain, we should think of why in the name of Yyrkoon is Harry a sorcerer, if he really is one?" Cho asked inquisitively.

"There are only two ways in which he could've become one..." Remus said thoughtfully, speaking for the first time during this entire discussion, "...either someone had a magical say in this - just as with Hermione - although that's highly improbable, since that would've required Harry's own will for it..."

"...And the other - if he was born that way, but something intervened, shutting those powers down for a while..." Hermione concluded.

"I wonder what..." Ron muttered pointing at his own forehead. Harry got the message at once, it seemed, because he snapped his fingers at that point, looking as if he had just solved the world's problems with ecology, Dark Magic and racism all in one go.

"Of course! Voldemort!" he exclaimed merrily as if the Dark Lord was the very source of his cheerfulness, "When he gave me this scar - he must have used a lot of magical energy and in a very powerful spell too... No wonder I absorbed his ability to speak Parseltongue!"

"And the extra power into your magic as well, I suppose," Draco noted, "And since sorcerers use that power to do magic... Well, I suppose we know why you are the Golden Boy, my friend."

"Yes, but there's a small downside to that," said Ron, "Only wizards can be Animagi."

"How'd you know?" Hermione asked, but blushed violently when she realized that this sounded more like an insult than anything else, "I mean... How'd you know?"

"You think you were the only one who read a lot of heavy and dusty books lately?" Ron asked with hurt in his voice, "I looked because I wanted to know if that Ring was dangerous. Found nothing though..."

"Great. Welcome to the family reunion of Dark Magic Users and Animagi. Can I eat in silence now?" sneered Draco, "I feel extra hungry from all that Darkness talk."

*****

Seventeen years before that, John David Bones was a happy man. Or, at least, he appeared happy. A loving wife, two sons, Max and Michael, what else could one possibly wish for? Unfortunately, his life was quickly destroyed in one night.

That one night John would never forget. That night, he was coming home, when he found that his house was aflame. The sky was dark, it was raining, and there were those strangely dressed people there... Wearing robes of some kind... They had gathered around his wife and kids, and were laughing maniacally. Then one of them pulled something out of his pocket, pointed it at Katherine and said some gibberish words. These words John would also never forget.

"Avada Kedavra".

It was Latin, he knew it, and he knew Latin, so when Katherine fell onto the ground he had almost no doubt to what had happened.

He ran towards the strange group of people as fast as he could, yelling something... The last thing he remembered was a blinding flash of green light. He felt himself somehow detaching from his body... That was the day John David Bones died.

*****

"So, that means that no longer shall a gryphon soar above the school?" Sirius asked after they finally parted ways with the table, at least getting a small chance to talk without Draco's interruptions.

"Some strange poetic mind you have there, Mister Black," Cho said merrily, "For an escaped convict especially."

"You can call me Sirius, I'm just an escaped convict after all!" he replied with a grin that was quickly shunned by Harry's death-offering stare.

"So Hermione, could you explain what exactly are warlocks about? I'm afraid I hadn't heard of those anywhere except that book on Animagi," Ron said, worming his way onto the same armchair as Hermione.

"Well..." she started...

*****

Warlocks were an order of renegade wizards who thought that the Darkness potential of wizardry was too low for their ideals, so they invested all they could give: time, money, a lot of their own lives and, in most cases, souls into the creation of a new sphere of magic that shifted the balance of pure Darkness from the Magi onto a new low - the Warlocks. The concept was simple, yet effective - combining the arts of Necromancy, Elemental Fire Magic and Elemental Earth Magic into a single school of magical arts - and it spread out like a plague, for wherever the armies of Warlocks went, people wept.

This plague was stopped by the Order of Demonhunters, shortly before their fall against the Army of Hell in southern Germany. It was believed that when the knights of Sir Christian the Brave vanquished the warlock army, none of those evil magic users survived...

There were several large-scale attempts of reviving this order, but none succeeded due to no support from the Lord of Darkness and virtually no written information on how exactly the magic functioned, for none of those who encountered the warlocks were sane and/or alive enough to tell the tale afterwards...

*****

"...And that's why so few is known about them," Hermione concluded.

"And... that's you?" Ron asked finally after several minutes of silent staring at her as if she was the spawn of the Devil (well, she was now, actually).

"Well... that's just the theory and mythology, because since nobody lived long enough to leave any precise comments on this magic, I have no idea if it is any different from wizardry on practical level, if at all," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Well Granger, if you fail as a do-gooder, you will still have the chance of turning Dark and helping Voldemort take over the world, you know," Draco noted merrily as he grabbed hold of a toothpick and put it to use at once.

"Look who's talking!" laughed Sirius, "If Hermione goes evil, you might just as well become an Auror!" he added, nodding at Draco.

"They don't accept werewolves into Aurors," Remus noted absent-mindedly.

"No offence, Mr. Lupin, but it's good if he--" Cho started as she nodded at Draco, "--doesn't get in there because of this."

"Ha! I wouldn't get anywhere near that Auror place!" Draco hissed with a grin, "They'd skin me alive... And besides, I've got no wish to become one of them!"

"Oh... So you don't want to be on Voldemort's side, but not on the law's side either, eh?" Ron asked pointedly.

"Hey, somebody has to play the neutral guy in this cosmic farce!" he exclaimed pompously as he stood up, pushing his chest out as if he was going to pretend being a hulking muscular mass of a standard-issue fantasy action hero. However, his thin build and pale face made him look comical, not heroic.

"You're lucky Lavender's not here," said Harry, "Otherwise she'd think twice before dating you again," he elaborated.

"Oh yeah? Want to fight on it?" Draco asked bravely, looking around for sharp things to poke Harry with.

"I am sorry to interrupt your little fight here," a new voice intruded, "But I'm afraid I will have to do so, for my time is short."

Everyone turned towards its source just to see a tall man draped in a black cloak, his black hair looking as chaotic as Chaos itself, his pale face looking deathly, and his eyes looking so full of fire that Harry and Draco lost all interest in continuing the word fight and stared into those eyes of a demon...

*****

...He had spent the entire night remembering how to break into people's houses, and his current look was almost decent. A black leather jacket and a Black Sabbath t-shirt above waist and black jeans below it, his old sneakers on his feet the only thing he was wearing before death he kept to himself. Somehow, he did not feel compelled to wear some more serious clothes - his absence of money (he did not take anything aside from the clothes from those three houses he did break in to) made him feel that an outfit less suggesting a stable income would be nicer to wear now. Almost felt as if he remembered his youth...

He cast away those nostalgic feelings and looked at the map again. It's a long way to London and that was the only place he could find people who might lead him to a Death Eater hideout quickly...