Master Of Shadows

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Master Of Shadows

Chapter Two: The Founding Of Rome

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"I could not help but notice," Harry said to Eran's turned back, "that your mum spoke about her husband yesterday while you just said that your father is dead."

"My real father is dead," Eran replied. "The man who is now my mother's husband is not my father by blood. I have his surname, true, and I call him Ian... but my father is still the one I look like."

He brushed his straggly, ash brown hair out of his eyes. Those eyes had drawn Harry's attention immediately, long before he ever talked to Eran, because they had a peculiar, amber-like color. Eran's face and arms were tanned slightly and his skin was golden from the sun. Eran was perhaps not a Draco Malfoy - whose good looks ensured status and popularity - but calling him ugly would not do him justice either. Whoever Eran's father had been... he must have been blessed with great looks.

"Mum said that the Order would come to fetch you in two days," Eran said after a moment. "I believe that some friends of mine are staying at the Headquarters, you might meet them. If you do I would like you to greet them from me."

"Aren't you coming?" Harry asked in surprise. "I thought..."

"That I would go with you?" Eran laughed and whirled around to meet Harry's eyes. "No. Mum thinks that it is better this way. We have to lay low for a while, you know, and going with you means doing the opposite."

"I understand," Harry said quietly even though he didn't get all of it. Then, suddenly curious, he asked: "What are your friends like?"

"Well, first of all there is Lyam Beltaince," Eran sighed. "He can be a downright troublemaker sometimes - and an idiot to boot - but I've known him for all of my life. I think that he knows me better than I know myself. Then you'll meet Zoë, Lyam's sister, as well. She's the youngest of my little group of friends but has got a certain wit to her that makes me believe that she'll be a Ravenclaw," he smiled. "Then we've got River and Tamsin Cesshuni - twins, but they differ from each other like the night differs from the day - who might have been related to Godric Gryffindor himself. Their bravery always gets them somewhere," he explained at seeing Harry's awed face. "Finally, there is Raziel Phoenix. I don't know the guy all that well but I'd rather have him as my friend than as my enemy. There's something about him that I don't like, but I can't put my finger on it..."

"Are they all pure-bloods?" Harry asked, dreading the answer slightly.

"Yes, of course," Eran nodded and looked at him quite funnily. "The Beltaince family name goes right back to the ancient civilization of the Celts. Their name was supposed to be a sign of high status. And the Cesshuni family's been staying in Rome for as long as the wizarding world remembers, or so River said anyway, and the members of that family are a familiar sign upon the streets of classic fashion designers. To tell you the truth, I know nothing about Raziel except for the fact that he is pure-blooded," Eran added sheepishly. "I never bothered to ask him about it all either. Maybe you can ask him and see if he replies."

"Maybe," Harry said. It was a lie, and he knew it just as well as Eran did. "Which House do you think you'll be in, then?"

"Perhaps Gryffindor, so that I could stay with a British friend," Eran winked. "Could also be Slytherin or Ravenclaw. Not Hufflepuff, Mum made that clear to me yesterday, but apart from that I fit in with any House at Hogwarts."

"Let me ask it differently. Where do you want to go?"

"Gryffindor," Eran stated firmly. "If I have to stay with Raziel for longer than the strict class hours, I'll scream. And Zoë isn't always that much fun, especially not if she's talking about Charms. Gryffindor seems like an okay place to me."

"I'm sure it is," Harry smiled. "So do you believe that this Raziel guy will be in Slytherin?"

"I don't just believe it," Eran groaned, "I know for sure that he'll be there. He nearly got expelled last year because he used the strongest truth charm that exists upon a fellow student. It didn't matter to the Head of our Department that this other student, Cilla Parkinson, had asked Raziel to do it," he continued with a strange sparkle within his eyes. "The craziest rumors were flying around the school by the time Aurors from the Ministry arrived. Some of those rumors were truthful, like the one that said that Cilla was a downright idiot for asking Raziel because everyone knows he is deep into Dark Arts, others were unbelievable, like the one that came to my ears days after the whole incident had passed. According to students from other Departments Raziel had threatened with the Killing Curse if Cilla didn't tell him the whole truth about her affair with Feral Henchly, after which Cilla offered to be put under the Veritas charm," Eran laughed. "Raziel's not capable of loving anyone so that's clear nonsense. He's had girlfriends, yes, but they weren't blonde and stupid like Cilla, they were fiery little girls with a mind of their own. But things never got serious with any of them because Raziel loves the Dark Arts too much."

"And he's coming to Hogwarts?" Harry asked, disliking Raziel Phoenix more by the second. "What was Dumbledore thinking? Will Raziel be there too when I arrive at the Headquarters?"

"I think he will arrive a couple of days after you," Eran said thoughtfully. "Zoë and Lyam will be there for sure, because they've already sent me notes about their arrival. I haven't heard anything from River or Tamsin yet but if they aren't at Headquarters yet they will be there soon."

"I think that it's a pity that you can't come with me," Harry confessed all of a sudden. "It would be a lot easier for me to meet your friends if you were there yourself. Plus, you're the only person my age who has been friendly to me in all those years which I've spent with the Dursleys."

"You can't have met many decent Muggles then," Eran muttered and turned his back on Harry again. "Believe me, Harry, when I say that you cannot become good friends with me."

"Why not?"

Even to Harry's ears this sounded like a child's voice, wailing and pleading. Eran snorted with laughter, looking very much like someone Harry knew although he couldn't place his finger on who it was, but then got a very strange expression upon his face. It was as if he was listening to someone who was not there, then he nodded and whispered:

"You know I can't. Stop arguing with me about it."

"Er... whom exactly are you talking to?" Harry asked. A chilly feeling had come over him all of a sudden; a feeling that was warning him that he really didn't know Eran that well. "I can't see anyone."

"Really?" Eran's voice had a teasing tone to it before it turned serious once more. "It surprises me slightly that you can't see her. These Glamoury spells must work better than I originally thought when I put them on her."

"What do you mean, Glamoury?" Harry spluttered. "And who is this 'her' you are talking about? Eran, please tell me what is going on!"

"Ah well, I expected that he would not be able to hide me forever," a voice suddenly spoke. For some reason Harry was reminded of Luna Lovegood's dreamy voice and he whirled around, half-expecting to see the blonde Ravenclaw standing there. The voice giggled and then commented: "Why, Eran, you never mentioned anything about his cuteness. Shame on you."

"Sorry about that, Rave, but I couldn't possibly tell you," Eran smirked. "You would have wanted to see him for yourself then. The risk was too great. Oh yeah," he added, seeing Harry's confused expression, "Finite Incantatem."

Harry blinked at the brilliant light that sparkled before him now. The first impression he got was the one of a mouth floating in mid-air - which was preposterous because mouths didn't do anything that could be considered as floating - shortly before brown eyes materialized before him as well, and then a small upturned nose just before a tanned face shimmered through the light. Curly strands of copper colored hair framed the now complete face before flowing down past the no longer invisible shoulders, giving Harry the peculiar feeling that he was looking at a waterfall of hair. However, the spell Eran had cast upon the girl - for indeed it was a girl who was half-floating in mid-air - did not stop there. A pink shirt revealed itself, making Harry laugh involuntarily for the print upon it ("I'm no Muggle, I just look like one!"), before tanned arms and hands became visible. The girl was wearing a lot of bracelets - all real gold, by the look of them - and one single necklace of paperclips shone brightly in the sunlight. Black tight jeans finally unfolded themselves, hugging the girl's slim frame, and then fluffy pink bunny slippers protruded from under the hem of her jeans.

"Heya, Harry! How are you?" The girl said this at a conversational tone, as if this sudden appearance occurred every day, before turning to Eran. "Dear brother, you have clearly neglected your task of preparing him for my arrival."

"Brother?" Harry asked faintly, suddenly aware of the similarities that existed between the girl and Eran. "What is this all about? I thought that you didn't have any siblings!"

"No, you assumed that I had none," Eran corrected him softly. "I never said that I was an only child. Harry, meet my sister, Ravejana, who prefers to be known under the nickname Rave only."

"Nice to meet you," Harry finally gulped.

"Why, you're really cute!" Rave continued blandly. "Even cuter than Lyam looked on that last picture Zoë sent," she continued, more to herself than to Harry, "and that's saying something, isn't it? Ah well, I expect that I'll be seeing loads more of cute people once we get to Hogwarts."

"Rave is obsessed with her boyfriend Lyam at the moment," Eran whispered, loud enough for her to hear every word of it. "And she has a certain knack for dressing strangely. Those slippers are a gift from Raziel, who said that if anyone could get away with wearing them it would be her."

"Raziel gave you those?" Harry asked, giving her a strange look.

"Of course, he's my friend," Rave nodded. She wriggled her toes, smiled, and then said: "Raziel always buys me something good for my birthday. Not like others, who always buy the same thing. I'm always surprised with the surprising elements the things he gives me have."

"The slippers give off glittery footsteps which fade away after a while," Eran explained to a confused Harry. "He once gave her a little medallion he found on the beach, and it was filled with little butterflies that would enlarge themselves and fly away."

"In the end, we managed to catch them all," Rave giggled. "He enchanted the medallion so that it would never come off unless he performed the counter spell. The medallion's upstairs in my bedroom right now because I told him that I was afraid to lose it, were I to go and take a swim."

"As soon as you return to school it will be around your neck again, no doubt!" Seraphine shouted at her daughter, having come outside with the laundry. "I told you a million times before: I don't want that boy anywhere near you!"

"Mum doesn't like Raziel," Eran said to Harry in an undertone.

Harry could understand that, though he didn't voice his thoughts on the subject at the moment. From what he had heard about him, Raziel sounded just like another Draco Malfoy - complete with unlimited bank access and a certain knack for doing everything the Lord had forbidden - but he seemed nicer than the Slytherin Harry loathed so much. For some reason Harry found it impossible to dislike Rave, though she had clearly said that Raziel was a friend of hers, and the story of the butterflies somehow made Raziel sound less... evil.

"I heard that, Eran Romulus Porter!" Seraphine warned. "But no, really, Ravejana..." now she sounded exasperated, facing her daughter, "what you see in that boy goes beyond my imagination. And don't even dare to reply to me, young lady, because I am fed up with all this talk about Dark Arts."

"Raziel isn't as bad as some of our teachers were," Eran spoke instead of his sister. "You saw Michelle du Pointe when you picked us up at Yule. And you met Zandra Tiernan last year because my Potions grades were going down into the point of no return," he summed up. "I think that Hogwarts will be in for a surprise if Dumbledore does that thing we've been expecting for months."

"What thing?" Harry asked. "And I thought that you were rather good at Potions..."

"I was good at Potions until someone," here Eran glared at his sister, "decided to borrow my notes. And that thing we expect Dumbledore to do is hire half of our old teachers because the Hogwarts Faculty can't teach everyone from Durmstrang and from Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts will certainly be in for a surprise," Seraphine laughed. "Mind you, I think that Dumbledore will try to hire the teachers who are harmless. The chances of that du Pointe woman ever teaching you again are less than zero. She got a job at Beauxbatons as assistant to the Headmistress. As for Zandra... she might want to teach you, who knows, but even Dumbledore isn't that thick."

"Harmless teachers... mother, was there ever such a thing?" laughed Rave. "Even the History of Magic teachers had some sort of connection to the Dark Arts. Yareth Tiernan, Zandra's brother, might come to Hogwarts though. He was never that fond of his sister's love for the Dark Arts and Hogwarts seems like the kind of school for him."

"Cate Dolohov might also come," Eran continued. "She was always a good Charms teacher."

"Her name sounds familiar," Harry frowned, trying to remember where he had heard the name before.

"Cousin of Antonin Dolohov, Death Eater," said Seraphine quietly. "Poor Cate has been hearing that for all of her life. I heard that her family disowned her after she cooperated with Aurors in Egypt."

"Since when do Aurors work in Egypt?"

"Aurors work everywhere these days," Rave replied. "Since You-Know-Who returned they have been sighted within Egypt especially. The ancient Egyptians held a lot of magical powers and we think that You-Know-Who is after those secrets you can find in their tombs."

"Were you to actually look at everything through the eyes of witches and wizards you would be able to find some interesting stuff there, no doubt," Eran said while grinning at seeing Harry's puzzled face. "The people that used to live within Egypt, the pharaohs and such, they were all magical. That is why nothing collapsed when the Muggles entered the pyramids and temples. They used magic to build everything."

"But why Egypt?" Harry asked. "Voldemort will be able to get more power everywhere."

"Not the power of the Egyptians," Seraphine murmured. "You-Know-Who is trying to find more power in Egypt because their magic is the strongest and can cause more harm than any other type of magic," she continued, glancing over her shoulder as if she expected Voldemort himself to be standing there. "It is said that when Imhotep created the first pyramid, he also made a prophecy about the return of power to all purebloods."

"Sounds like a downright Salazar Slytherin predecessor to me," Harry mumbled.

"In those times most wizards were pureblooded," Rave said, frowning slightly. "I don't see how all of that pureblood mania should be connected to one House only. Slytherin had some weird ideas, yes, but no wizard was as strange as the ancient wizards who first walked upon this planet's surface."

Contemplating that, Harry said goodbye to the Porters. Seraphine seemed a bit surprised at his early leave, but did not say anything about it, while Eran and Rave challenged each other to play a game - by the sound of its rules, it was highly dangerous - and did not seem to notice a thing.

"I wonder," Harry whispered to himself that evening, "if they are really friends with Dumbledore."

***

When all has been abandoned

And only history knows our tale

That is the time of the dying sun

Our world will be so dark and frail

None shall foresee the terror

That lies within the powers that be

None shall overcome this horror

But for the power of ten plus three

One already marked

With the heart of a knight

The second a loyal friend

Aiding in whatever fight

The third then, so wise

Impurity has only got a name

Fourth is a seventh daughter

To whom not all evil is the same

Number five so unknown

Growing darker still

Six now, a constellation

Serving the darkness' will

Seventh, the beast and the man

Needed shall be the feeling

Eight is a woman

Skilled in all healing

Nine tells a story yet unseen

And warns that looks do not tell all

Ten is for the sister

Who only needs a little nudge to fall

Eleven and twelve together

Different but alike as well

Thirteen is the last to remain

In shadows he shall dwell

Hear me now, my friends

For an immortal shall come

Not like our gods he is

Afraid of death, this one

If you look upon him twice

Beware, my friends, for then the end

Will soon come

Will soon be sent

Be afraid of the master

Before you condemn the lord of snakes

Purification is their goal

Fight them with everything it takes

Remember this

Though purified the world shall be

No one means for it to fall into shade

Remember my words, and be free

Raziel Phoenix sighed softly and closed the book with a snap. No matter how many times he looked at the prophecy the 'Book Of Imhotep' contained, he always wondered about the ten plus three and the possibility of Imhotep's words coming true within a matter of months. He was frustrated with the lack of information the book contained about the ten plus three, irritated even as he realized that it would take him another three months to interpret the prophecy correctly, and the fact that he was getting tired and weary with sorrow did not really help matters.

He placed the book back upon its shelf and collected his notes that were lying scattered upon the table. Cursing inwardly as he saw that the two upper pages he had written on were now blotched with ink that hadn't been dry yet, he decided to call it a day and disappear out of the library for the moment.

It wasn't like his parents would ever notice that he had come out of the library. He would be surprised, really, if they even knew where he was spending most of his holiday time. Raziel's parents had a certain lack of interest when it came to their son's doings - something he was rather grateful for, by the way - and the only thing they occupied themselves with during the day was bragging about their riches to other, perhaps even richer, pureblood wizarding families.

"Master should be resting," a squeaky high-pitched voice said. It interrupted Raziel's thoughts for a moment and he looked down at the small house elf that had spoken with a vague look inside of his eyes. "Master needs to keep up his strength."

"Rest has forsaken this house, Lissa," Raziel replied. "If I don't do this, then who will? The lines of the prophecy are unknown to Lyam and Zoë Beltaince. Eran, perhaps, knows some of it because his middle name leads us to the founding of Rome. Rave shows a lack of interest for everything that has got to do with history. And River and Tamsin do not care about prophecies made years ago. I am the only one who is able to do this job, Lissa, don't you remember?"

"Of course Lissa remembers, master," the house elf replied with a grave look upon her face. "But Lissa is worried, master. She has heard the most terrible things today, yes master," she nodded, "and Lissa is uncertain about the future the prophecy holds."

"What did you hear?" Raziel asked, kneeling down to face the elf. "Lissa, please tell me everything. It might be important."

"Lissa swore to father and mother of master to not tell," the elf said and shook her head. "We elves keep our promises, master, even if that means punishment."

"I am your master, Lissa. My mother and father cannot threaten you or command you to keep silent about things. Tell me about all of those secrets you have heard of. I swear upon the prophecy that no harm will befall you."

"Lissa heard about the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, master," the elf said as her eyes became as large as tennis balls. "Your father and mother knew that He would rise again and that they would serve him once more, master."

"What else is new?" Raziel sighed.

"They plan an initiation, master. Lissa fears for your life, master, for indeed it seems as if they really want you to pledge your allegiance to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Hogwarts too shall be in great peril, once the plan succeeds. Lissa did not hear what they were going to do, master, forgive poor Lissa, but Lissa knows that it will happen this year."

"When shall this initiation take place?" Raziel asked. "And what about the future of the prophecy?"

"Lissa heard that you shall be initiated this Yule," the elf said with a sad tone in her voice. "As for the future: Lissa does not know. Lissa just overheard the conversation, nothing more than that, master, but Lissa has heard them laugh about the prophecy. They said that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is not worried about the prophecy anymore."

"It might be the one thing he should be worried about," said Raziel with a laugh.

"Master has to promise Lissa to not tell his father and mother about this. Lissa would be punished most severely, master."

"Promised," Raziel said and smiled at the house elf.

The little thing bustled out of the library; clutching her filthy tea cozy she wore as clothes firmly within her little hands. Raziel expected that she had burst into tears and, as that sunk in, sighed mutely. He had known the house elf for all of his life and even though he firmly believed in setting house elves free, he never really got the chance to do so. But as soon as his parents would die or leave the house he would set Lissa free. The house elf had served him well over the years and setting her free would be some kind of thank you.

Raziel glanced back at the book upon the shelf. He would have to hurry up with interpreting the prophecy and finding the thirteen people it talked about. Voldemort only served the real dark forces of this world, and Raziel knew this, but yet he worried about the initiation. He was not worried about himself - he was rather pleased with the news - but he was quite worried about the grand scale of new Death Eaters that would be initiated that evening alongside him.

He had no problems with spying upon Voldemort. He had no problems with killing a few people himself. The only thing that was Raziel's problem was the prophecy.

"Purification is their goal," he murmured as he walked out of the library, "fight them with whatever it takes."

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