Harry Potter and the Champion of Darkness

Chapter 8: Touched by a Fallen Angel

Harry convulsed as a second bolt of electricity took him in the chest, sending him rolling across the front lawn of Sean's house. What was happening here, thought Harry as he grit his teeth. A strange ringing in his ears deafened himself to what was going on outside of his own head. How did Alex regain his power; how did he beat the Memory Charm? The answers were not coming to him fast, however, as Alex cut short his second bolt of lightning, in favor of taunting Harry some more. Harry could not hear his taunts, however, over the noise in his ears.

He had never been struck by the full blast of a Narhassa student before, however he had heard Draco describe the experience as purely crippling. He had seen Ron take a bolt for Seth in the chest which had laid him sprawling to the ground, unable to do more than groan for several minutes. Harry had just taken two bolts, and after the initial shock to his body was over, he still felt miraculously unscathed. In fact, he felt better than before... as if charged by some unforeseen event.

Propelled back to his feet by a sudden rush of power, from a prone position on his back to standing bolt and strong in one sudden motion, Harry glared at Alex, who looked more than a little surprised. The ringing in Harry's ears stopped.

"What the fuck..." hissed Alex, as he loosed three glowing blue missiles from his outstretched hand. Each took Harry in the chest, passing through his shirt and entering his flesh with a crackle. The force of the impact forced Harry to stagger back a step, but hardly laid him flat three times over like they should have done.

It slowly became clear to Harry that somehow, during his transfer of power to Sean, Alex must have had his powers awoken as well. Alex was merely throwing power at Harry that he had given to him... no wonder it was having very little effect.

Alex's expression became one of panic. He fired a third bolt of lightning at Harry, sweat of fatigue already lining his thick, brown brow. This time, Harry decided to steel himself against it and put his connection to Alex's power to the test. He lifted his hand into an intercept position and met the lightning head on. He felt like he was holding back the force of a moving automobile, but he held firm as the lightning struck his palm and fizzled out on contact. Alex grit his teeth, leaning forward and continued channeling lightning for all he was worth. As the seconds went on, it became easier and easier to resist Alex's lightning, and eventually, the boy fell to his knees, drained and fatigued.

"You done?" asked Harry in a firm voice as he lowered his hand and shook it a few times. It had hurt, but for all the power Alex had used, he probably should have been dead fifteen times over.

Unable to summon the strength to stand, let alone throw more magic at Harry, Alex panted and nodded, looking more than a little nervous.

"How are you doing this, Potter?" demanded Alex tiredly, his proud, thick jaw set into a scowl.

What exactly was Alex Guardings worthy of knowing, wondered Harry as he stared at the taller boy with dislike. The mere sight of him made his stomach turn. What did he owe Alex? He had somehow given him power while trying to stop Narhassa's essence from killing Sean. Had he awoken all the potential within every Narhassa student, Seth Redetyor included? If so, did Seth go insane again... what was he doing to Hogwarts...

... Ron was still at Hogwarts.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Guardings," said Harry, trying to put the boy into a less defensive position. "How did you get your powers back?"

Alex narrowed his eyes like a hungry predator, for a moment Harry thought Alex might gain a second wind. He made no move to stand, however. "I told you... I was just sitting there, and it all came back to me. I sat there for like three hours trying to make sense of it all... then, I decided..."

"... that you'd kill me?" filled in Harry with a dark tone.

A tense beat passed between them, Harry felt tension in his palm. If Alex tried to attack him again, he would loose his patience.

"No..." trailed off Alex defensively, though a slight flutter in his eyes betrayed that the idea had definitely crossed his mind - most likely more than once. "... hurt you... maim you... maybe... but not..."

"I'm flattered," muttered Harry sarcastically. He glanced irritably toward Alex's Jeep, truly wanting no more fighting for today. "I want you to get back in your car and leave me alone... now... I don't want to see you again for the rest of this trip."

Being ordered around by a clearly superior opponent brought out a sheer, stupid streak of defiance within the other boy. Alex took a step forward, his arms taut and shaking by his side. "Or what..."

Harry could feel all the energy Alex had just forced into him right at the tip of his fingertips. All he had to do was release it. He could incinerate Alex right then and there, or he could blow up his Jeep... or he could make the sun descend from the heavens and crush him. He had power over everything, so use your power... make him a Death Knight and release your potential.

The air became alive with electric current as Harry released the power Alex had given him in the form of a devastating lightning bolt, aimed neither at him nor his car. He opened fire into the air directly above him, lightning leaping from his open palm and staining the street white with bright light. He had to get that voice out of his head, that tempting, soothing and irritating voice. That was all he could do.

A horrific clap of thunder boomed loudly off the walls of Sean's house, across the street, and echoing for miles. Apparently, Alex got the message; he leaped into his Jeep, slammed the door, and was gone to the sound of screeching tires and blackened rubber on the asphalt.

* * * * * *

It rose from the ground upon shaky, unproven legs. Its eyes thought they would never see the world again in its entire splendor, let alone in this dust blown place. Wind continued to rip past its face, carrying the smell of burned flesh. It made it hungry.

It turned about, staring at the circle of black robed figures. Nearly all of them were on the ground, cowering in fear of a spectacle the creature had missed. It glanced down to see that it was naked, but what did it matter? It had no need for clothing; clothing helped not in efficient killing.

It turned its searching gray eyes from those gathered around in the circle to the one man above him, who descended slowly from the sky, whatever ritual had brought it here completed. It knew at once that this man was his master.

It knelt down before this man, lowering my head and bowing my well-muscled body before him. Its master calmly stroked its brown hair, like he were petting a priced pet of some kind. His cruel fingers ran down the length of its face, and lofted its chin adoringly.

"Yes," cooed the Dark Lord, as he stared into my eyes. "Perfect. My Champion..."

It lowered its eyes, staring at the ground before it. His master had blessed him indeed with such a generous title. His champion, the one who would bow to his whim, the one who would destroy any asked of it. How he adored to be known as such.

"I am yours to command, my lord," it said, in a raspy tone that hid beneath it a melodious voice waiting to be warmed once again. Its vocal cords had not been used in a long time, for air had not passed into its lungs in the longest time.

The Dark Lord took a step back, as if to behold his creation in all its wonder. "Arise," bid its master, stretching his arms wide and beckoning to it.

It rose again, slowly and purposefully. How strange it was to feel once again, to breathe the smell of snow or to feel the wind rushing through his hair. How he missed the feel of stone beneath his bare feet. For the first time in so long, he felt alive... torn free from some kind of hell that had been holding him fast. Earthly knowledge was returning with every breath, while his memories of the afterlife were fading further and further away. With every passing moment, he felt more alive!

He.

He was no longer a creature anymore, but a man, a man having returned to dominance.

"What is your name, my Champion?" asked the Dark Lord, his swirling red eyes focused upon him.

He said his name loudly and proudly, but forgot a moment later, the knowledge pushed to the back of his own mind by some sort of magic... some binding agreement made without his consent. His master held out his clench fist, showing the whites of his knuckles.

"No longer! For the duration of your return to the world... you are to be known as Brother Death Eater, my most loyal servant."

His master willed it, and it would be done. The now named Brother Death Eater lowered his head with obedience, his dead-lifeless eyes fixing themselves to the ground. His name mattered not to him, so long as his lord was happy. For now.

"As you wish, my Master. What is your bidding?"

Wormtail had quietly approached from behind Brother Death Eater with two objects in his possession. Slung over his real arm was a black cloak and robe, allowing him to blend into the Wizarding World. In his other hand was a thick mahogany wand, well over two feet long.

"Take these gifts, Death Eater"

Brother Death Eater turned slowly and accepted the clothing and the wand from Wormtail. He slipped the robe over his head and covered his body with the soft, black satin. With a deceptively soft hand, he took hold of the cloak and threw it about his shoulders before tightening it. Reaching into one of the pockets on instinct, the gray-eyed man produced two large black boots, which he dropped to the ground. Wasting no time, he emptied the other pocket, freeing two black gauntlets. Methodically, he slipped the gloves over each of his hands. The magical material adjusted themselves promptly to his large hands, expanding to accommodate him snuggly and comfortably. Similarly, he slipped his feet into the boots, which clung to his foot, shrinking down to settle comfortably around his toes.

Finally, Brother Death Eater reached out his hand and took the large, two foot long wand. It resembled more of an ornate scepter than a wand, really, with various arcane carvings running up and down the shaft. The head was rounded off in the form of a three-fingered claw, with sharp nails that could no doubt tear through the flesh of anyone within striking distance.

"You know your task, then," continued Voldemort, speaking down to his newest slave.

Brother Death Eater nodded solemnly and continued speaking in his even, passionless voice. "I am to hunt down the bearer of Narhassa's entity and bring him before you alive."

"A boy..." hissed Voldemort. "... named Harry Potter. Bring him before me, alive."

The name struck a familiar cord within Brother Death Eater, as if it had been murmured from across the room a moment before. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the name Harry Potter was known. Perhaps he had known him before... it mattered not. All that mattered was that his master demanded this boy.

To Brother Death Eater, that was all he needed.

* * * * * *

Ron fell. He fell forever, spiraling head over heels down the length of the waterfall. The rocky river bottom awaited him patiently, yet at the same time, rushed up to meet him. His powers had failed him, he was now freefalling, deeper and deeper, the water closer an closer.

He slapped hard into the surface of the water, stunned by the impact. He felt the weight of his body restoring itself as his freefall through air became a painful descent underwater. The sounds of the waterfall still roared in his ears, though at a lower more drawn out pitch. His legs and his arms refused to work as he was pulled under by the force of the waterfall, churned about like a butter, around and around.

He forced his eyes open and saw only blurry blue laced with white water as he rolled. His bare feet touched a rocky bottom, and just as quickly he was pushed sideways along, strapping the sharp, rocky riverbed. As the shock began to wear out from his body, he felt his arms and legs begin to move again. Small wisps of red water trickled about him, his body cut from his contact with the bottom. He began to lick and thrash about with his arms, not knowing where the surface was, for so many times, he had been churned and spun about.

As the seconds turned into minutes, the pain in his lungs intensified and his swimming strokes turned into desperate kicks and swats fueled by his own panic. Druidism had failed him once again. The power had been there. It had been HIS for the taking. Why had it failed him so? Was this the end result of a failed druid... to be sucked under by a fall of a one hundred foot waterfall, pinned against the rocks by the current, all the while helplessly staring up at the surface which he neither had the strength or the capacity to reach.

Just before he lost consciousness, one thought crossed his mind. This is the second time you have died a spare... never again. First, Harry lets you die... now Felmarth...

Never again...

* * * * * *

"Mr. Potter!" yelled Madam Pince, her voice sounding furious. "Wake up this instant!"

Ron gasped for air, suddenly lurching up from the library table. What had just happened? Water dripped off of his face smearing against the ink of the page he had been sleeping on. In fact, he was soaked and utterly miserable. He desperately pushed his black bangs out of his eyes and snatched his golden glasses from where they rested on the table. He laid back in his chair, fighting to get air back to his lungs as he choked and coughed up even more water.

Light was now streaming into the library from the stain-glass windows on each end. While the library was still completely empty save for himself and the librarian, he knew it was daylight. He could have cared less at this point, however. He was still alive, and that was all that mattered.

Madam Pince fixed Ron with a very cold glare. She grabbed up Maldaras: The Essence of Terror and closed it with a loud slap. "Thirty points from Gryffindor for sneaking out after curfew and reading a book from the Restricted Section!"

Ron continued to cough, draining the water he had inhaled a moment ago. It was real. It had all been real. Not only had he read about Maldaras' life, he had LIVED parts of it. He stood up, water dripping from his robe, as if he had just gotten out of a swimming pool a moment ago.

"I'm... I'm all wet!" Ron gasped with horror. "I nearly drowned!"

Madam Pince returned, having filed the book away properly. She maintained her very stoic and distant look. "There is a reason these books are restricted!" she snapped bitterly. "If that is all that happened to you, I would count it as a right blessing!"

He knew all about books that could create some very magical effects, but that had NOT been a magical effect. Ron eventually controlled his breathing, water still dripping from his robe and accumulating in a small puddle by his feet. It had been more than just magic... he had been drawn into the story, as the main character! Whoever wrote that book had intended the reader to be in Maldaras' place, to feel his anger and his rage. And so Ron had.

Later that day, Ron and Seth were having lunch in Hagrid's hut. It was then that Ron decided to tell him everything about what happened last night and this morning.

"So, let me get this straight... you read this book called Maldaras: The Essence of Terror, and, you found yourself inside the story, living out Maldaras' life?"

Ron, who had finally changed into clean, dry clothing, nodded frantically. "Yeah! It was real... I swear it. I'm not going barmy!"

Seth shrugged and spooned a mouthful of stew into his face. "I'm sure you aren't." The Tom Riddle clone shrugged softly, uncertain what to commit. "Maybe the author decided that telling the story of Maldaras was not doing justice to the old dark druid. Perhaps he wanted you to live the story by placing a charm on it."

Ron slapped the beaten wooden table. "No! Haven't you been listening... it was real, Seth! I came out of it, soaking wet. What actually happened in the book, happened to me... Ron Weasley... not Maldaras!"

Seth shrugged again and continued eating in a show of opaque aloofness. Ron allowed himself to unwind and took the clue from Seth that the other boy wasn't going to argue with him any more. Ron continued to eat, though the food went down slowly and was unsatisfying. After about three mouthfuls, he felt stuffed.

"I need to go back and continue reading," declared Ron, pushing away his all but untouched stew. "I want to see if it happens again..."

Seth glanced at Ron's bowl with a raised eyebrow. "You just sat down... you're not hungry?"

Ron shook his head. Ever since Harry and Hermione left without him, he had felt little need to eat, drink or sleep. He was perhaps on three days with little sleep, after Voldemort's interruption, his reading and simple inability to close his eyes. Sleep wouldn't make him feel better, so why bother?

"No," said Ron bitterly, "I'm fine."

Seth leaned forward and looked up at Ron. "Mate... look. I'm sorry about Potter and Granger, but it wasn't your fault. Did you ever think about why they chose Malfoy over you?"

A wave of anger reddened Ron's face. "Well yeah... because Hermione has probably been pretending I'm Malfoy every time we kissed... and Harry and Malfoy... bonded or some sod like that while fighting... you... and why am I even talking to you about this?"

Seth shrugged unknowingly, but a cunning gleam in his eyes suggested he knew more than he led on.

"Did it ever occur to you that, just maybe, your friends didn't mean to betray you and were forced to bring Malfoy along?"

The question was completely absurd to Ron and he dismissed it at once with a disgusted wave of his hand. "Yeah right... 'forced' to bring Malfoy along? Did Malfoy use the Imperius Curse on them?"

"No..." trailed off Seth with a demeaning tone.

"Then what?" Ron prompted with a cold tone.

Seth shrugged once again... and once again Ron felt his face grow beat red. Ron kicked the chair he was sitting in over and slammed both his palms into the table he was just sitting at. He leaned over the table and glared at Seth derisively, and even the aloof boy recoiled with a bit of surprise.

"You know something I don't, don't you?" Ron sneered hotly. "Tell me."

The other boy was quick to recover and leaned forward as well, showing a complete lack of fear. "No, I don't... biting off my head isn't going to get you the answers you want! Why don't you talk to Dumbledore instead... or get some sleep."

Talk to Dumbledore, thought Ron as he leaned back, getting out of Seth's face. In truth, he had never thought to ask the old man what his role had been in all of this. Harry, Hermione and Malfoy had met in his office before going, so he was obviously in on the fact that Malfoy was going and not Ron. Did the Headmaster set this whole thing up?

Ron caved in and offered Seth a nod. "... sorry... about that..." He lifted his palms from the table, and picked up the chair he had knocked over. Without looking back to the other boy, Ron left the hut, fully intent upon finding Dumbledore.

* * * * * *

Apparently not risking a lengthy stay, Narcissa Malfoy had left an hour or two after Harry's electric lights show. Harry secretly hopped that she didn't blame him for drawing attention to the house that might have gotten her caught by Death Eaters or other dark wizards on the prowl. His ears were still ringing from his own blast of thunder, a sound that had no doubt confused everyone for miles.

Sean and Hermione had returned from roller-skating a little while ago, and Draco had returned upstairs after his mother had left to play the computer game Sean must have introduced to him a day ago. Hermione appeared to be happy for Draco when they told her about the visit, but Harry could tell deep down that she had as many reservations about that meeting as possible. They had also heard the clap of thunder from wherever they were. Harry, meanwhile, decided that he would keep what he knew about that little light show to himself. This was something that Hermione didn't need to know happened.

But, what about even earlier... wondered Harry, as him, Hermione and Sean were gathered in front of the television, watching some American T.V. show. Should he tell them about what Draco thought about Slytherin and the whole transformation into the creature of the undead thing? Could they handle that? He wasn't even sure if he could...

"Hey Harry," called Sean from over the sofa, the ability to speak still very much in him again, "you tell Malfoy about the duel?"

Hermione glanced over at Sean and then back to Harry. "Duel... what duel?"

Harry blinked with astonishment. After all that had happened, it hardly seemed that Sandy and Janus mattered anymore. The little challenge from earlier that morning had been completely forgotten. After all, what candle did showing up an American wizard hold to a murder attempt by Alex and possible undeath? Nonetheless, a challenge was a challenge, and Harry had agreed to it. In a way, he was glad that Sean had reminded him, however, he wish he had done it in confidence. There was a reason why he didn't ask Hermione to be his second.

"No, I forgot to," confessed Harry, trying to ignore the glare full of daggers that Hermione was shooting at him. He rose from the sofa and tried to make a quick escape. "I'll go ask him now."

Hermione cleared her throat coarsely, reminding Harry that retreat was not an option. "What is this duel foolishness you are talking about?"

Hermione's voice, as always, commanded authority and froze his fast strides. With a resigned sigh, he glanced over his shoulder. Her face was set firmly and her arms were crossed over her chest. "It's a I mean... y'know..." He caught Sean wincing apologetically, though his eyes were firmly held by Hermione's unyielding expression. With defeat, Harry confessed the events that happened while surfing that morning.

"So, you got challenged by two boys... correction... one boy, one veela spawn... and you accepted?" blurted out Hermione. "Harry! What did you think you were doing admitting to them you were... you!"

"They saw the scar," protested Harry, trying to maintain some dignity.

"You are supposed to be here keeping a low profile!" exclaimed Hermione, her voice bouncing off of the walls in the same way Professor McGonagall's might. "These two boys are going to tell all their friends, and they are going to tell all of theirs... all it takes is one person loyal to Lord Voldemort to hear it, and we'd all be in serious trouble!"

She was right, of course, and Harry knew it. Sean was taking a big chance with himself and his family by harboring both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Should the Dark Lord learn of their safe house, he would no doubt destroy it, along with anyone who aided his two opponents.

"He insulted me, my parents, and slandered the name of Cedric Diggory in order to get me to duel him," countered Harry, his fist balling at his side. "I want to show him some respect."

"No, you just played right into his hands..." remarked Hermione with defeat. "Harry, if this beach bum could manipulate you into doing whatever he wanted, think of what others might be able to do."

Harry waved his hand, dismissing the comment. "It's what I want to do, Hermione."

Hermione sighed, her serious expression finally melting away. He could not help but shy away from her right there, however, as Hermione looked right past his face and into his mind. There was no way he could hide a secret from her; that was just a fact.

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" she asked.

He didn't want to lie to Hermione, he really didn't. However, to answer her truthfully would cause her so much concern. What proof did he have beyond the words of Draco Malfoy (hardly a reliable source for much of anything) that there was even something wrong with him? Delicately, he touched the top of his right hand with the fingertips of his left. His own flesh felt neither warm nor cold to him, as normal. This subtle yet visible action was not lost on Hermione, she looked to Harry's hands, trying to put things together.

"It has to do with this morning, doesn't it?" she questioned, looking back up and fixing Harry with her knowing eyes. "Whatever you did to give Sean back his voice..."

Sean remained silent on his chair, watching the exchange. He didn't speak and Harry knew he wouldn't... he might have known Draco told him something serious, but he didn't know what it was.

"Maybe," offered Harry reluctantly. The whole truth would come out eventually, but not tonight. "I think it drained me a little bit... I'm tired."

Hermione's stare did not let up. It was quite obvious to Harry that she knew him much better than she led on. However, she trusted Harry, and that fact was equally clear by the soft reflection in her brown eyes. While she may suspect more, she wasn't going to push him for any details. Harry was thankful for that, he wasn't sure if he could lie to her a second time.

Instead of replying, Hermione glanced over at Sean, who was sitting cross-legged in his chair with his head prompt up on his arms.

"Coming?" she asked. She then looked back to Harry and gave him a slight shade of a smile... one of those 'don't blink or you'll miss it' sort of things. "I plan to go to this duel of Harry's... to make sure he doesn't hurt the other boy too much."

Sean smiled and gave Hermione a kind nod. "Of course. I bet my board that Harry and Malfoy will win. I'll be there to make sure he does."

Harry puffed out his cheeks upon hearing that. "Right, I just have to ask him first."

* * * * * *

"Busy Potter, go away," came the initial reply to a request for an audience with his greatness, from behind the closed and locked door to Sean's room.

"Malfoy... this is important," continued Harry, with a flat expression upon his face. The sounds of loud music and clashing swords echoed from Sean's room.

A curse was heard from behind the closed door. "I'm a warrior, not a priest, Potter. Take your confession elsewhere."

Harry glanced back to Sean and Hermione for a little bit of help. When no help seemed to be coming from the dubious Hermione and the tight-lipped Sean, he glanced back and resumed pounding on the door.

"Malfoy, get your computer game addicted arse out here now, or I'm coming in!"

Their was a moment of silence. Perhaps Draco was considering the repercussions of a very angry Harry about to barge into his room. Then, however, Harry heard another voice loud and clear.

"Our Town is Under Attack!"

Another swear echoed from Draco before he shouted out again. "Dive into the ocean and breath, Potter. I'm busy here!"

Harry raised his wand to open up the door, however, Hermione took Harry's flank, putting a reassuring hand upon his shoulder. "The great news is that Ron is on his way over!"

Suddenly, all sounds within Sean's room ceased. A moment later, their was a click from the other side of the door before it was nearly torn off its hinges by Draco. He was still wearing his pajamas from earlier that day... dark green silk robes. His wand was in his hands waving furiously as he tried to push past Harry and Hermione.

"That fireplace is going out if I have to jump on it myself! Weasley is not going to ruin my vacation!"

Harry nodded his approval to Hermione, though in truth, it was a shallow action. The way she made light of his former best friend was unnerving to say the least. It reminded him briefly of the incident in the Headmaster's Office, when Hermione had led Ron in, knowing full well Draco was there. There was, of course, a chance that it slipped her mind... but this was Hermione here. Every little detail from every book she read was transcribed into her brain, repeated without effort by the request of a teacher.

"Ron isn't coming," explained Harry in a dry tone. "But, while you are out, I need you to come with me and bring your wand."

Draco blinked dubiously, staring at Harry with a cold expression. "What sort of tomfoolery are you playing at, Potter?"

Harry decided to just put it between Draco's eyes. It was the only way to deal with a Malfoy. "You and me are going to fight a little duel against two American wizards, win, and then go get some more hamburgers with our winnings."

Draco hesitated for a moment, as if trying to gather enough steam for the "perfect" insult to tell Harry off. After a moment of doing what appeared to be some serious thinking, Draco shrugged. "Eh, sure. But, let's make this fast. The great nation of Azeroth cannot persevere without their great wizard commander." He pointed back toward the computer with his thumb.

The other three took turns showing their dismay; Harry rolled his eyes, Hermione sighed deeply while Sean just laughed at Draco.

"Don't mock it until you try it!" barked Draco defensively, pointing his wand from Harry to Hermione.

Harry just did not feel like arguing this detail. It was strange enough seeing Draco with a thick gold chain around his neck, let alone hearing the Slytherin Pureblood preach about the quality of Muggle computer games. How he even figured out how to work the computer was not something Harry wanted to explore.

* * * * * *

What a strange feeling it was for Ron, sneaking through the hallways of Hogwarts, surrounding by Harry's Invisibility Cloak... during the daytime.

It wasn't as though he were restricted from moving around the castle at daytime; it was just that he did not want anyone seeing him that could attest to him being outside of the Gryffindor Common Room. In fact, he wanted that seventh year Gryffindor and those two first years that were the extent of the winter break population to vouch that he never came down the steps. He pushed open the door to the library with a creak, alerting Madam Pince. How confused she looked when no one was seen entering.

"Peeves, is that you again?" cursed the frail looking woman as she adjusted her spectacles.

Ron cleared his throat. He had hoped she wouldn't notice his entrance. But, now it was too late. He had to do something, or else she'd be very suspicious when that door opened again and he had to leave. And so, he took a deep breath and put his fingers upon his nose. This is so not going to work...

"Ta HA HA HA!" cackled Ron, his voice coming out three octaves louder than his norm, and further garbled by his fingers over his nose. "I've got... er..." Ron trailed off, trying to think very quickly. Sweet-talking was always Harry or Hermione's forte, never his. "... waterballons with your name on it... Pincy Pincy!"

Madam Pince apparently bought his display, for she stormed over to the door. Ron moved in quickly, ducking to the side of one of the shelves closest to the door, just in time to avoid her.

"If you throw one of those things in here, I'll read up on exorcism! I'm so far from jesting!" roared the wiry lady.

Ron bit his lip to keep from laughing as he spun his wand into his hand. Now, this called for a little bit of magic. He waved it and silently whispered a spell under his breath. "Sonarous Tactisicos" With a deft flick, he pointed it across the room.

He pressed his lips together and blew loudly, the vulgar sound of spitting echoing loudly from the direction he pointed in. The infuriated librarian stormed off, having fallen for Ron's Voice Throwing charm, drawing her want at the ready. Wasting no time, Ron raced into the restriction section with dizzying speed, his muscles pumping furiously. His footfalls should have been loud, but they made not a sound as he pulled his weight before stepping down on the balls of his feet. In no time, he found Maldaras: The Essence of Terror and slipped it into his robe. He was able to escape the confines of the library just before Madam Pince returned, looking purple with anger.

Smirking with personal triumph, Ron raced all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, a full ten minute run, through the twisting corridors of Hogwarts. As he neared the Fat Lady, he stopped running, his breath not even taken from his lungs despite the run. He approached her with a calm stride and gave her the password. The portrait swung open, but before entering, he threw on his cloak. As he passed into the room, he noticed the other three Gryffindors... the seventh year showing the two first years how to play Exploding Snap. Ron passed them unnoticed, moving as silently as death up to his room.

"And now," began Ron with a triumphant smile as he cast aside Harry's Invisibility Cloak and flopped on his own bed, kicking off his shoes. After his shoes went, he figured why stop there? In case he got thrown into another pool of water, he decided to be dressed accordingly. He stripped down completely and threw on a pair of his swimming trunks, normally reserved for afternoons in the late spring.

"Let's continue with this... see where it goes," finished Ron as he opened the book to where he left off, about a fourth through the large, thousand-page book. Wasting no more time, he continued reading.

* * * * * *

Brother Death Eater arrived to his destination with a pop, having Apparated with a deft flick of his new, two-foot long wand. How heavy and awkward this wand felt in his hand, so unlike the wand he used to wield before. The Dark Lord had told him the new feats he was capable of, gifts of the lichlord Maldaras... to serve Voldemort, his Lord, in his task. He was to find Harry Potter, and his own instincts found him here. He knew this was where Harry Potter could be found, and he would seek him out and best him with his abilities.

But yet, there was another clawing desire within Brother Death Eater's chest. A girl, a deed unfinished. The name of this girl escaped him, but he knew she was important to him, important to his power. False conclusion and doubt led to a contradiction of his nature. For some reason, a contradiction in his nature weakened him... made him a less efficient killer. She would need to be found first, before Harry Potter, or else he might not be strong enough to defeat him. Powered by the lives of children only counted for so much, Brother Death Eater knew, so if he was to hold true power, he must complete this task before stepping through.

Tonight, when the sun had sank below the trees - when his power peaked with great might - he would act. Until then, however, he stepped out from the alleyway and put on a fake smile as he walked down the street, flanked, passed and surrounded by wizards, coming and going, living their lives... blissfully unaware of the monstrosity that strolled among them.

He approached a place called Honeydukes, a place that brought memories of pleasure and taste back to his mind. He remembered nameless people and himself - allies... minions... friends maybe - spend much time sampling tasty forms of consumption within this place, using money and lining their pockets with sweets. How pointless it all seemed to Brother Death Eater now. The shadow of a life passed, gone and destroyed... a life that had ended in sorrow. Now, given a second chance at life, he would do this right. He would live life as he should: he would follow the winning side, not the right one.

And, with his mind free of confliction, he entered the Three Broomsticks, nodding to the servant girl who took one look at him and smiled winningly. He passed her by, however. Temptations of the flesh were well beyond the reach of the Champion of Darkness. What could the living possibly offer him that he might need? He approached the main counter of the bar and inn.

"Hey there, handsome," greeted a young witch, in her late twenties, with raven black hair and a pleasant smile. "What can I get fer ya?"

Brother Death Eater did not smile back at her. In fact, it took all his effort to keep a scowl from his lips. He envisioned stealing her life to fuel his power, he imagined bathing in her blood. Would she be still smiling if she knew to whom she spoke to so informally?

Deciding that incognito was better than mindless killing, however, Brother Death Eater continued. "I would like a room for three days."

The friendly young witch smiled kindly. "Oh, new in town, ey? Want me to take ye 'round about after me shift?"

"I'll pass," muttered Brother Death Eater acidly. Upon seeing the hurt expression upon the woman's face, however, he decided that it might be prudent if he kept a low profile. News of a taciturn wayfarer would likely spread around the town, if he made himself out to be a jerk. He might have to spend a few days here, and he did not want that kind of attention. "I have a significant other," added Brother Death Eater, to put the woman a bit less in the insult.

"Oh, I see," she replied, her smile finding its way back on her face. "She's a lucky girl 'en. It's five scythes a night, complete with three meals a day fer only a scythe more."

Brother Death Eater replied with a wave of his hand. He produced a galleon. "Just the room for two nights, please."

The woman looked at him with mild amusement. "Well, hun, ye got to eat food sometime dont'cha? Much more expensive if ye be eaten elsewhere in Hogsmeade."

This brought the subtle flicker of a sarcastic smirk to his face. "I have eaten quite well in the past few hours. I just would like my room."

The woman shrugged defensively and extended a room key to him. "Alright there. Don't ye be a stranger now. Come on down and say hello once in awhile. Your room is the third floor, second on the right."

"I'll be sure to," replied Brother Death Eater, as he took the key and with a sly nod of his head, turned and walked up the stairs, his mind already working on a trip to Hogwarts and who he'd find that night...

... tonight, he would dine well.