The Door to Chaos

Chapter 8 - Tea for Two and Fur on the Sheets

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months and still Riddick had not managed to gain the trust of Harry Potter or his friends.

Funny, infiltrating a Necromonger army turns out to be easier than getting a couple of kids to trust me. Guess I'll have to try something new, a more direct approach. Perhaps at the Hogsmeade week-end.

Riddick had learned to respect and even appreciate the company of some of the other teachers. If he felt indifferent to the likes of Professor Sinistra (Astronomy), amused by the tiny Professor Flitwick (Charms and Head of Ravenclaw House) and intrigued by the white-haired centaur called Firenze (Divination); his respect for people like the headmistress, Minerva McGonagall (Transfiguration, Head of Gryffindor House and Acting Headmistress ) or Hagrid was by now a fact. Here were some people he had come to genuinely like.

As suspected, the half giant, Rubeus Hagrid (Care of Magical Creatures), had proved an invaluable source of information about things going on in and outside of the castle. He had kept his promise as well, and had taken Riddick into the Forbidden Forest a couple of times to visit his herd of winged, carnivore horses, the Thestrals. The black mare that Riddick had taken a liking to, had greeted him like an old friend and he had spend a happy hour feeding her before going on a hunt for Ashwinders.

As Hagrid had explained to him, an Ashwinder was a thin grey serpent with glowing red eyes, which comes out of magical fires, and lives long enough to lay fiery hot eggs in some dark and secluded spots. The eggs, while valued as potion ingredients, were very dangerous. If they weren't found and frozen in time, they could set buildings on fire. In a forest they could be a real danger for obvious reasons. Nobody likes a bunch of arsonist snakes in their woods.

Riddick and Hagrid had killed the couple of Ashwinders that had just moved in, but something had already eaten their eggs, leaving only the shells behind. Hagrid had been very excited about that, as he had never heard of a beast before that would willingly eat Ashwinder eggs. The Ashwinders had been included in Riddick's lesson the very next day.

Some other teachers though were definitely starting to get on Riddick's nerves.

One of them was the nurse, Madam Pomfrey.

After one of the Gryffindor kids, Seamus Finnigan, had had a nervous breakdown in one of Riddick's lessons - Riddick had been teaching them how to deal with banshees - and had had to be taken to the infirmary for treatment, the nurse had sought Riddick out, and shouted a stream of invectives at him, before threatening that if something like this happened to HER charges in one of his lessons ever again, she would personally see to it that he was prevented to teach Defence again. She had broken bones (from Quidditch games and training), spell and curse damage to mend every day, and she did not need the added aggravation of having to give Calming potions to students each time they came from his lessons.

Riddick had been mystified. The small round nurse had actually managed to make him feel as if he was some snotty eight year old.. And there was always the distant possibility that he might have to have recourse to her services one day. To make things worse, she had caught him sneezing and, less than an hour later, the nurse had been back, and forced him to swallow a nasty brew in full sight of the other Professors, a brew that she called a "Pepper Up Potion".

The potion had made smoke come out of his ears for hours, and caused every student he met in the castle to snicker behind his back, as they thought that he could not hear them any longer. It had cured his cold as well, but that only added to Riddick's bad mood.

No, Riddick did not like Madam Pomfrey. But Poppy Pomfrey was nothing compared to Sibyll Trelawney, the Divination teacher.

The woman was a nuisance. The crazy old bat seemed to have - and Riddick shuddered just thinking about it - romantic feelings for him.

She had managed one day to talk him into visiting her in the North Tower, under the pretence that one of her tea services had been cursed, and that she needed his professional help.

When Riddick had shown up in her stuffy and overheated tower classroom, the perfumed fumes had shut down and clogged his sensitive nose in a matter of seconds.

He had picked his way to her carefully around tables and chintz armchairs, that turned out to be as many obstacles when he wanted to get the hell out only minutes later.

The woman had then insisted on having tea with him, out of an old, white tea service. The porcelain had sprouted pink hearts each time he touched his cup; the sugar bowl kept nudging his hand meaningfully; and as he told her that the tea service did not look dangerous to him and tried to take his leave, the woman had suddenly grabbed his right hand, stared at his palm, and stroked it with a long, pale silver painted fingernail like some elderly mantis antenna stroking its prey. She had then proceeded to tell him with a pseudo-mystical throaty voice, that he had an anonymous female admirer at Hogwarts. A very misunderstood woman, who had been touched by Cupid's own arrow the first time she saw him. A woman who could see his powerful and lost soul and his aura, and who wanted to be there for him, shoulder the burden of his destiny at his side, and more crap like that.

Riddick had stared at the long silver fingernails stroking and digging into his palm and had to fight down a very real urge to ghost her before things could get any uglier, but he had then settled on just getting the hell out of her classroom; a hasty, undignified retreat that felt a lot like a cowardly escape and was hindered by above-mentioned chintz obstacles.

For some reason, Sibyll Trelawney had reminded him of the time where an equally crazy woman, Antonia Chillingsworth, had kept him imprisoned on the spaceship Kubla Khan.

What is it with crazy women trying to grab me and get me into trouble? Story of my life.

Antonia Chillingsworth, collector of death and frozen people; tried to put me in deep Cryosleep and stand me naked on a pedestal in deep cryo.

Aereon, the Elemental envoy. She set me up to go after the Necro-commander himself, no less.

Lady Vaako, you murderous Necromonger bitch, poisonous snake in the body of a goddess. Ghosted my ass. Still can't believe that I came back from the dead. Glad I did, even if I'm not alone in my head anymore.

Sibyll Trelawney, the Seer. Looks harmless enough, but they always do at first. They always do. There is a pattern here of increasing female destructive potential, people wanting to use me, and I'm not liking it one bit. Besides, the old bat is fuckin' ugly. Just my bad luck again. Now if it was that Rosmerta woman from the pub I went to with Hagrid who hit on me, things would be different...

The fact that Black's consciousness in him had been howling with silent laughter throughout his ordeal had not helped either.

Ever since, Riddick had tried to avoid staying in the same room with Sibyll Trelawney. This proved to be difficult, as she was taking all her meals in the Great Hall now, and had managed more than once to sit on his left side, where she would stay, crouched silent and reproachful, and devouring him with her eyes like some heavily perfumed insect throughout the meal.

***

Riddick had felt strange all day, restless. He wasn't used to staying at the same place for such a long time, and today's classes had not managed to take the edge off his restlessness. He had been haunted by similar dreams for a couple of weeks by now, and woken up in the morning tired, more tired than a full night of sleep should have any right to leave him. Sometimes his whole body ached as if he had been working out for hours.

When he went to bed today, he fell at once into a by now familiar dream pattern.

He jumped from his bed and trotted to the door. His huge black paws had some problems opening the door, but he was getting better at it. He pricked his ears forward and backward, listening if Filch, the caretaker, or his ugly cat were nearby. When he couldn't hear anything but the usual creaking noises that the armour standing nearby made as it shifted from one metal-clad foot to the other, he trotted out and followed his nose down the stairs until he came to the Entrance Hall. He had to change back into a man in order to open the great door, but then he found his freedom and bear-sized animal shape again and loped joyfully on huge paws toward the forest.

On the edge of the woods, he picked up his giant friend's scent and decided to follow it inside the forest and talk to Hagrid. Who knew? Perhaps Hagrid would take him on another hunt.

His matted fur seemed to pick up every dead leaf he touched, but he didn't care. The trail he followed smelled fresher now, and he picked up speed, strong muscles working, paws pounding, his tongue lolling a bit out of his muzzle to get the heat out of his head.

Not far now.

He slowed down and entered the clearing at a calmer pace, when his nose picked up a new scent. Similar to Hagrid, but unlike anything he had smelled before. He could hear the voice of his friend talking to somebody, but the voice answering him was deep like a landslide and it came from something that even looked to the big shaggy black dog like a landslide with legs and arms and a huge ball with a cavern sized hole on top.

The hole moved and the landslide-voice grunted, "HAGGAR. GRAWP HUNGRY."

*A giant. I can't believe it. Hagrid is keeping a giant in the Forbidden Forest! Minerva must be informed of this at once.*

By the time he got back to the castle, he was breathing hard, his sides were heaving and all four legs were trembling from the effort. He was picking his way toward Dumbledore's...no Minerva's office, as a young voice called his name from behind.

He stopped, turned his head and saw Ronald Weasley's head floating toward him. The boy must be wearing James' old invisibility cloak, which was now Harry's property, as he fondly recalled. The boy had probably been out to get some sweets from the kitchens or something, if he was anything like his chocolate-fond mother at the same age.

"Sirius? Sirius is that you?"

The freckled young face looked first shocked, then uncertain and hopeful.

*God no. Not that. I can't face that right now. I'm sorry, kid. Please, don't let Harry be with him. This is not the right the time for this. He mustn't see me. He mustn't.*

He fled, ignoring the uncertain calls behind him ("Sirius? Is that you? Please, wait!") and the ever-present rage of the strange predator, killer really, whose skin he was forced to wear since he had crossed back through the Veil in the forbidden section of the Ministry of Magic. Only when the OTHER one, the Riddick, was asleep, did Sirius find the freedom to change and roam in his beloved old school the way he had longed to from the first day he/Riddick had been appointed as a teacher here.

*Just why is he always so angry? I've never known a man with such a deep, permanent rage before. Or with such control over it. It's as if he has never been touched by love in all his life. Just what is wrong with the man?*

Sirius ran all the way up to his room, collapsed on his bed, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

Sunlight on his face woke Riddick. He stretched, all his muscles protesting the motion. He sat up... and stared at his feet. They were covered with earth and two of his nails were torn. Slowly he held his hands out before his face. They looked just as bad as his feet. They actually looked as bad as the hands of Pomona Sprout, Herbology teacher and Head of Hufflepuff House. Smudged with earth, and with dirt under the nails.

There was something else on the sheets. Riddick picked it up and stared at several long black hairs. No, not hairs, black fur. Like the fur a huge black dog might leave if it were to sleep on his sheets. He looked from his own smooth, caramel and nearly hairless skin to the coarse black hair on the sheets.

Okay, when did that happen? Dreams don't do that sort of stuff.

*No, they don't,* the hated voice in his head informed him. It sounded a bit embarrassed, guilty really, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Riddick's eyes narrowed.

Are you saying that I really...

* ... turned into a dog? Uhm... Yes. I was actually really happy to discover that I'm still an animagus, even in this body. Even if this new dog form is very... wolf-like. I guess I have you to thank for that. Now I finally know how Remus feels...* Sirius' spirit voice still sounded a bit guilty, but smug as well. Riddick realised that Black really missed talking to the man called Remus Lupin.

Riddick decided to ignore him. He stood up, walked to his tiny bathroom and showered, washing off the grime and dirt he had picked up in the forest, idly wondering what the house-elves would make of his dirty and hairy sheets. He looked at the mirror over the sink. His own face looked back at him, perhaps a shade paler than usual.

"I just turned into a dog," Riddick told wonderingly to his reflection.

"Sure you did, my pretty. Did you have to kiss a princess or a witch to turn back, you big hunk of a man you?" Answered the mirror with a mellow female contralto-voice.

"Big what?" asked Riddick. He could hear Black's barking laughter again.

Down, boy. He thought back at him and revelled in the sudden offended silence.

Good dog.

He looked back into the mirror again, and for the first time really realised all the implications of having to SHARE his body with another soul. This was the second time that Black had just taken command of HIS body, and this time Riddick had not even been aware of it. The implications were obvious. His body had become just a fleshy shell for the strongest soul inside to take over and move about. When he slept, this was obviously Black. The man could do just ANYTHING with HIS body while he slept. Up to and including turning him into a dog!

Saying that this realization did not sit well with Riddick would have been an understatement.

He scowled at his reflection. From this point on he would never be completely certain again who exactly was looking back at him, when he looked into a mirror.

Riddick shuddered. Suddenly his past life, first as a hunted criminal and then as the commander of the biggest galactic army of dangerous nuts, took on a glow of pure nostalgia. There was no going back; but there was nothing to go back to anyway. After all, the one person he ever cared about, a young girl with name of Jack, was dead. And no group of wizards had brought her back. Yet.

Miss you kid...

*If you are quite finished feeling sorry for yourself - how about getting some breakfast?*

Despite the harsh words, Sirius' ghost voice was oddly compassionate.

Don't you fucking pity me. Don't you dare.