Elemental Genesis

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Chapter Twenty-Four: The Emergence of the Phantom

"Sirius, are you positive-"

"I'm certain of it, Remus! I saw Harry."

The werewolf raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I don't know, Sirius. If Harry were right there as you said, why didn't he react to you calling him? I'm sure he would have."

Sirius threw up his hands in exasperation. "The woman he was with...she must've been doing something so that he didn't realize it was me."

"Now you're grasping at straws."

They stood on the corner of the street, both very annoyed with each other: Sirius at Remus' disbelief and Remus for Sirius going out on a limb like this. Both were dressed in simple muggle clothing, as not to attract suspicion. But a raving and adamant Sirius tended to draw attention whether or not he was wearing robes.

Remus sighed. Sure, he himself would love it if they found Harry right at this moment. But what were the odds of him being seen in the street, right under their noses? And if Sirius called out to the boy, why didn't he respond? It made no sense. The expression on Remus' face turned annoyed. To think that he, Remus Lupin, was actually using the arguments made by Severus Snape the day before at the last meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. As much as Remus disliked the man, he had to admit that his reasons made sense. The rest of the Order evidently agreed with him on that point. With a touch of chagrin and amusement, he realized that Severus had inadvertently caused Sirius to search with even more determination.

He decided to give up. Sirius would need someone levelheaded to get him out of sticky situations with muggles. Remus knew from experience that Aurors tended to not handle relations from muggles well. He knew Moody to once have cursed a muggle's nose to the backside of his head for attempting to give him "poison". Moody, to this day, has never touched the muggle candy Warheads again. "So, where do we start, Padfoot?" I'm going to regret this...

This prediction was further reinforced by the smile that now graced Sirius' face. "Great! You do believe me!"

"No, not really," he started. But when he saw the gratitude practically radiating off his old friend like the heat from the sun, he decided to let it go. "Yes, I do." How he hated lying, even if it was for politeness or friendship's sake.

So, they walked down the busy avenue. Sirius was looking around carefully. Remus recognized that the Auror was looking for familiar people. It was a good call, but thousands of people lived in London. The chances that someone would be there was rather slim. Apparently, Sirius was looking for that slim chance.

When they had stopped, he looked up at the name of the store. Swathes of sheer pale pink fabric were draped in the large windows. Looking closer, he saw various skirts and shirts. All of which that if he had a daughter, he would never let her wear. The sign was in a lilac purple, pale yellow curlicues forming...

"I'm not walking in there."

"Moony! What's more important: Harry or your dignity?" Sirius was only met with a level glare. "C'mon," he said, grabbing Remus' wrist and dragging him in.

And this was how Remus Lupin - for the first time in his life - was dragged into "Girl Haven". I'm beginning to wonder about where my life is taking me. Such were his sarcastic thoughts. He could already feel his face turning crimson at the stares of the females in the store. What was worse was when they passed the lingerie section. He thought he would die.

Why couldn't Severus go through this? I'd pay to see that. But not me, definitely not me.

Sirius didn't seem to notice all the inquiring gazes. He pressed on to the cash register as if nothing were wrong. Only when they did get up to the station, did he realize that they were the objects of attention from all the shoppers. Sirius was about to open his mouth, but Remus intervened. They did not need the all the notice. So he asked the cashier, "Excuse me, but do you know where the designer jeans are? Both the daughter of my friend here and my niece need some."

Almost immediately, were they both back into the safe arms of anonymity.

Sirius glared at him, but Remus just gave him a look of exasperation. Sirius then asked the woman, "Sorry to be a bother to you, miss, but we're looking for someone. We think you might be able to help us."

The woman behind the counter looked at him curiously. "I'll try. Hopefully I can help you." She was rather pretty, Remus had to admit. Her nametag read 'Annie'. Her blonde hair was swept up in an old-fashioned chignon, which he found rather odd for a cashier working in a store that sold clothing for modern girls. Also, he noticed she wore a corseted vest. She managed to pull the look off with style.

But there was something wrong with her. He couldn't quite place it, but he knew there was something very off about her. Looking closer, he wondered why her eyes, so cheerful, didn't look...fully alive.

His friend didn't seem to notice. "Did you by chance see a fifteen year-old boy around the area just a few days ago? Messy black hair, green eyes, kind of short?"

Annie nodded no. "I'm sorry, but I didn't. There aren't that many boys around this street since it's mostly boutiques and appliance stores. I would think I would remember if a boy around that age would have walked by the store."

"What about a woman?" Sirius persisted, "Black hair, extremely attractive?"

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Sir, I think you should define your view on an attractive woman. There are many attractive women with dark hair around. There are also a great many pretty redheads and gorgeous blondes. You could be a little more specific." Remus nearly laughed at the look on Sirius' face. Not many women would say that directly. Imply it, but not say it right out.

"Well..."

"Sir, unless you have any more business, I think you should leave. I won't let you stalk some poor woman that you saw on the street and want to get to know better. And two, you're holding up the line."

The two men looked behind them. Sure enough, there was a line of five or so people in back of them, many of them impatient looking teenagers.

"Let's go, Sirius," he said quietly.

"But Re-"

"Let's go."

As they walked out, Sirius exclaimed, "Why did you drag us out of there?!"

"It was getting us nowhere! How do you even know that she was there two days ago?"

"Simple, I saw her in the window when Ginny and Hermione walked in."

Still unmoved, he said, "I'm sure. Wait. Why did Ginny and Hermione go in there?"

"How am I supposed to know?!"

"You were escorting them!"

"I have my boundaries."

Remus muttered, "I can't believe you."

"Just drop it," Sirius said. "Let's try some of the other stores. Maybe they know something."

Following the stubborn former convict with a cause, he prepared himself for a long day.

The man in the suit leveled an impressive glare. In his raspy voice, the manager replied, "I'm sorry, sirs, but I would think I or one of my staff would remember if any such persons would have entered my store. We value our customers and make every effort to know them and their faces. But as Mr. Shaw as told you, we do not know who these two people are."

Remus could visibly see Sirius' frustration. The same emotion was also clear on the expressions of Mr. Shaw, the clerk, and Mr. Majors, the manager. It was a good thing that the white-haired manager of the appliance store had stepped in or else Sirius and the obviously Middle-Eastern man would have gone to blows.

"We would like you to leave."

"But sir," Remus started, but Mr. Majors cut him off.

"You are disturbing our customers sir. Please leave."

As a result, they left. And like the previous store, they received no clues whatsoever, even though Sirius was certain that both Mr. Shaw and Mr. Majors had been there that day.

But what piqued Remus' interest was Mr. Majors saying to Mr. Shaw in a low voice.

"Mr. Majors? I swear I'm going to leave this job."

"I'm Mr. Shaw, so there."

"She better be happy I'm doing this favor for her."

That last statement made Remus suspicious. Could the woman Sirius had been asking about be covering her tracks? Not for the first time, Remus thanked his werewolf hearing. But to him, that was one of the very few perks brought about by the condition.

Again, they got nothing. Neither the bartender nor the waiter that spoke with a distinct Indian accent in the bar had seen a good-looking woman with a boy that had green eyes and black hair. Once more, Sirius had been sure that the two had been there and had noticed on her. It was a very odd bar, Remus had to admit. Sure, the drinks were great, but the atmosphere was rather open and cheerful. It was even more so than the Leaky Cauldron, though this was probably because of the lack of children. He swore he heard this conversation between a raucous muggle man, obviously Hungarian from the accent, and a waitress:

"Will you fondle my buttocks?"

"Yes...three blocks down, on the left."

He decided not to even think about where that one had come from.

The waiter was very closemouthed. He did not say a single word about a customer, claiming that it would go against the restaurant's values and principles. It was during these trying times that Remus wished that they would be immoral for once.

But Sirius was not to be abated. The search would continue in his mind. But that was before it happened.

<><><>

Utterly pathetic.

That's what it thought about the wizard's little secluded shopping center. Everything was right there with absolutely no protection. It was like leaving a child in a pen with a tiger.

Or more accurately in this case, a panther.

His lip curled at the sight of them, scurrying about, purchasing and buying things of little worth. To compensate for their inept magic, they had to use those items. He didn't have to. No, his element gave him all that he needed.

It was their thoughts that made him cringe in disgust. Their notions of equality and self-righteousness, when they themselves did not practice it, were pure hypocrisy. If he could put up with them, why couldn't they do the same to everyone else? Wizards were truly a prejudiced lot. So much that he considered muggles above them. At least, they could accept the differences and compensate for their own lack of magic through intellect and technology. Their ability to adapt earned them his respect, though there was significantly little of it. It was unfortunate that those wizards born to muggles did not inherit this trait.

This Voldemort fellow, though he was a wizard, had very interesting views. Much like Grindelwald, he proposed the elimination of those who were an insult to magic. Of course, this included muggles, but as he noted before: he had respect for them, but very little. That little respect did not save them from retribution.

With a pang of humor, he realized the irony of the situation. It was as if the wars of old were being renewed. And if that were the case, then the elemental community would certainly - and of course, discreetly - get involved.

But they had different plans.

This time the wizards would know who the elementals were. And they would fear them. He was going to make certain of that.

He swore it on his name. He wasn't Keane Glynith-Vartar for nothing. He would bestow honor onto the name of his mentor, the late Sterling "Snake" Vartar, whose surname he had added to his own. He was the Black Panther, leader of the Suiko-Tsuki Panthers, the Panthers of the Water Moon. And he would show them that elementals were the greatest magic users. Also he would take revenge for the downfall of his mentor. For the great one's sister, who switched sides, was still alive.

The traitor, who had led the Dragons of the Storm Skies to victory years ago, it was an insult to the name of Vartar. The famous Sarah Vartar-Hawking, master of the Hellfire Inferno technique. She and all descended from her would pay.

But for now, let the chaos begin.

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It began with the earthquake.

Everything toppled under the strength of it. The whole thing was unnatural. And that mere fact would be recorded in history books, articles, and essays that would be written afterward. It seemed like it was controlled. And later, the wizarding world would find out that it was.

Deep fissures that seemed to have no bottom cracked the quaint cobblestone street, wares and even whole stalls toppling into the darkness. Bricks fell from the tops of buildings and onto the horde of screaming victims underneath. From every building they poured out, adding to the mayhem and havoc already occurring. Worse yet were the sounds from the wizarding bank of Gringotts. Goblins, ever the self-preserving individuals, abandoned their white marble fortress. Before the wide eyes of onlookers, the building collapsed with a magnificent crash. The shaking had disturbed the pillars and caused the entire structure to fall. The caverns beneath probably were disturbed, but the strength was greatest there in the vaults. But there would still be no way to get anyone out from the caverns quickly, judging from the immense amount of rubble that was left of the grand bank.

There wasn't a place in the area where there wasn't screaming. Some brave souls tried to take shelter in the notorious Knockturn Alley. But there it was worse. Dark spells and artifacts tend not to react well during these sorts of situations. Bedlam soon took over that infamous area as well. Dark potions crashed to the ground releasing deadly poisons while dark books released the protection spells on their pages and cursed those who got ten feet near.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

Flames leaped out of the crevices, showering hot fire and even lava on those in the vicinity. In addition to the cave-ins and collapses, the conflagration began to devour them as well. It was a deadly inferno. Nothing was left in its wake. Even hard stone was left as nothing more. The terror was horrifically multiplied by this new development. The crimsons, vermilions, and golds were menaces to all that were living. Ollivander's was truly a horrible sight. As the fire engulfed it, the wands inside reacted. The resulting explosion could be seen for miles and injured a great many. The multicolored sparks and plumes burned those who ran for they traveled far. Even those at the far side of the alley came in contact with them. Though Ollivander himself was nowhere to be seen.

This was unsurprising. Who could find anyone in that devastation?

Violent winds began blowing from out of nowhere. The fires were stirred up into greater fury and spread even more. The winds blew down everything that wasn't already collapsed or burned. Entire groups of people were blown off their feet to the ground, some even flying feet forward.

The wind brought rain. This could have slowed the flames and some of those still conscious of all of their surroundings discounting the flames and cracks in the earth cheered. The rain, to them, would help appease the fire.

And it did fall. Tons of it, in a great deluge, poured down on to the waylaid alley. But the fire was not put out. In fact, the fire seemed to not be affected by the water at all. The water began to pool and flood the alley. The liquid was far from cool: it was boiling hot. The wizards remaining ran as their feet, though shod with acceptable shoes, were scalded and burnt.

Only four things remained standing in the destruction; four towers the remains of what used to be thick brick walls. Almost complete annihilation was wreaked on the once grand Diagon Alley. And on top of those monoliths stood four figures, in cloaks of different colors and their left arms the only thing uncovered. The one in green carried a sword of a shining metal that could not be identified and the tattoo of a black pegasus on his arm. The one in blue, clearly a woman, carried a mace of what looked to be crystal. Her left arm bore the mark of a black fox. Another woman, in what seemed to be a mocking sunlight yellow, possessed a staff of a purple and dark blue substance, the mark of a black vulture on her arm. The last, the one with the black panther tattoo, was in blood red. Fire glinted off of the gold metal.

As the aurors finally arrived on the scene, the four laughed. Menacing laughs. They echoed throughout the ruination and waste, amplifying them to an abhorrent pitch. The aurors, who had seen much in of the destruction that Voldemort and his followers had caused, were afraid. They had never faced off against nature itself. You could see it in their eyes and how they trembled in the blue robes that proclaimed authority.

They were scared.

With another burst of manic mirth, the four disappeared in a flash of fire. But they were not done. The wind carried a final message clearly meant for all of the wizarding community.

"Foolish wizards! Did you weaklings really think you could stand against elementals?!"

<><><>

The hall was filled with harsh and hurried whispers. It did not take one to guess what was the topic of discussion. With the amount of destruction caused to so great a magical landmark, the pureblooded wizards were bound to be in frenzy. Who had caused it? How did they do it? What on Earth happened?

This was the scene that greeted Voldemort as he walked in. As usual, he wore loose black robes, rich but completely unadorned. His snake, Nagini, was at his heels. All who were present became silent at the sight of their lord. It did not take a vivid imagination to visualize what he would do if they did not comply.

The hardly human - in more ways than one - and self-stylized Dark Lord sat on his throne, Nagini hissing at his side. Looking at the assembly with stern, serpentine eyes, he asked cruelly, "Well? Gossiping are you, my Death Eaters?"

Many sounds of dissent filled the air. No, they weren't gossiping. They were discussing the great disaster that had befallen Diagon Alley. Hadn't he heard?

He raised his arm for silence. "You're all very curious about it, I see."

One death eater, young and thoughtless, exclaimed, "How can we not?! Did you see what happened?! There was nothing left!"

"Crucio!" As the young man screamed in agony, Voldemort let a smile grace his face. He had gotten a new wand. This time, it was perfectly suited for his demon side. Lady Pheta had made sure of that. It was made of hemlock wood, from the tree that always gives such remarkable poisons, and crystallized hellfire from the chariot of Chaos himself. Pheta had said it had been in her family for quite a while. Ever since the death of the demise of the Sovereign by the Sword of Althelion many millennia ago and when Chaos had begun to separate himself from the affairs of the gods, in fact.

It made perfect sense that it would be so well suited for him. He was after all a demon.

The insolent death eater fell to the floor in a heap when Voldemort lifted the curse. He was so lost in his musings that he had left the boy under the Cruciatus' influence for about seven minutes. He really didn't care all that much.

"Yes, I know about Diagon Alley."

Lucius Malfoy - he could tell who the idiot was even if his face was underneath the mask - stepped forward. "Then my Lord, do you know of these elementals?"

"Yes. They are a group of people not much unlike us. But while we draw our power from our mind and our wand cores, they do not. They use the power of the elements, of Mother Nature herself, to do their magic." He lied a bit about the mind magic. Anyone who knew of the different types of magic knew that a wizard relied on the spells put in books and in the wand cores. There were only a few who actually used their own magic and those tended to be marked with a lot of power. Take Albus Dumbledore. He was considered to be the greatest wizard of the age and he only used barely a sixteenth of his full potential. But that was still much larger than the average wizard's.

"They are our allies," Voldemort continued. "And I would like to introduce you to their leaders." He smirked, as the room visibly grew tense. "There are six clans and you had better treat them with respect. I hold no part in your demise if you not."

Six figures stepped forward from the side corridor. They were cloaked in many colors: blood red, bright yellow, demure blue, hunter green, deep indigo, and one more in steel gray. Their left arms were bare, displaying black tattoos of animals. As one they stood to the side of Voldemort. The death eaters could easily feel the disdain directed from those hooded figures.

The one in gray spoke first. A man's deep voice proclaimed, "I am Black Bear of the Enjuku-Ha Bear clan, Bears of the Gray Leaf. Terris Gordon."

The next was the one garbed in indigo, a woman. "I am Black Eagle of the Hoshi-Hitomi Eagle clan, Eagles of the Star Eye. Nara Barnaby."

"I am Black Pegasus of the Ouja-Taki Pegasi clan, Pegasi of the Royal Waterfall. Dirk Perseus," said the man in green.

The woman in blue said quietly, "I am Willa Ardelle. I am Black Fox of the Takara-Tani Fox clan, Foxes of the Treasure Valley."

With a loud voice that was full of malice, the one in yellow spoke. "I'm Black Vulture of the Tsuta-Zeppeki Vulture clan, Vultures of the Ivy Cliff. My name is Celestine Algernon."

Finally, the last, which the other five seemed to have great respect for, said his piece. "I'm Keane Glynith-Vartar, Black Panther of the Suiko-Tsuki Panther clan, Panthers of the Water Moon."

It was he who out of all of these strange leaders filled them with the most fear. And the crystals as the clasps of their cloaks added to this. Those crystals gave off a strange, unnatural feeling.

Voldemort finished off by saying, "These are the Phantom Elementals."

<><><>

It had taken two whole weeks to fix what that blasted god of death had done to her precious palace. Pheta slumped in her favorite peach chair, frowning.

So far, everything was going well. If a bit slow, but progressing. She had a thousand-year old revenge to take care of.

Voldemort had better use that wand well, she thought. It took awhile for Amaterasu to take a break from watching it. That hellfire was a treasure of the light gods. It symbolized the beginning of the end of Chaos' influence. Though, truthfully, she was the one who made this campaign against that part of the Great Trinity. He was truly dark, wanting hardship and pain to exist. His argument was that it would teach them what they needed to know at a faster rate, so that they didn't realize everything during the last years of their lives. She would have none of that. Pheta hated pain.

The Great Trinity: the Almighty, the Universe, and the Chaos. The three aspects that gave birth to everything. Well, nearly everything. The gods that had come after also had their say. She did not know the ancient history as well as the older gods did. Granted there were few gods at all that existed before the creation of the galaxies.

The ancient dark gods were: Erebus of Tartarus, Nyx the night goddess, the witch goddess Hecate, and the ever-reclusive Destiny. Then there were the Harbingers, but they were long gone. Their souls were scattered at the advent of humanity for a crime. Pheta knew one had made it to the planet of Krynn, a real troublesome one as a god of magic. The crime had that actually shaped everything in the universe. But she was not going to think about that. No, Pheta would never admit that those destroyers that came from the dark had done something that profound. She was happy that they were gone. Excepting the Trinity and the Sovereign, they were the only ones who could kill a god. That was when the Universe started backing away.

The ancient light gods were much fewer in number: the day goddess Hemera, the light god Aether, and the goddess of civilization Civila. She grinned in a sinister fashion. Althelion was the last of the ancient light gods, but he had...met an end so to speak. The blood of one of the Harbingers was hard to come by, but she had managed to poison the god of truth. Then she had taken care of the Sovereign. But the Universe had intervened. The sword of Althelion was on Earth now, where who knows where.

Now that Voldemort had the Phantom Elementals on his side, things should be getting interesting. And she was eager to watch.

<><><>

Raistlin looked around at the destruction. No one could see them. They had taken care not to be known. All this, a smoldering pile of rubble and rubbish, was what remained of Diagon Alley. Aurors and medics wandered around, mingling with volunteers, to sift through the mess. At times there were the jubilant shouts of a person found alive underneath everything. But more often there was just silence as only the dead were uncovered. Leith, Ptolemy, Annie, and Indra were there to collect the souls of the deceased here. He had no real reason to stay. Raistlin was neither Reaper nor anyone's servant. He was asked a favor by a woman who he highly respected and admired. So he had done what was asked. Melania had promised him even greater access to the dark tomes as a reward. This was why he liked her: she kept her promises and was considerate. Add in the fact that he could do as much research into the black arts as he pleased and he was happy. "Amateur," he rasped in contempt at the scene.

Annie glanced up at him in amusement. "You would know, Mr. Majors."

"Shut it, Reaper."

"I must say you looked good in a suit."

"I'm not even going to deem that with a response. I'm returning to Annuvin."

"Reporting back to Melania?"

"I don't report back to her. I tell her what I know. I'm no servant, I'm her ally. Difference."

"Yeah, yeah. But I will admit that idea of false-recognition charms was a stroke of genius."

"Do you expect anything less of me? Now I must be going."

"See you later, Raistlin. Hope you survive."

"That has to be the worst good-bye you could give."

"Which is why I said it."

He looked at her with the expression of one who has dealt with one with considerably less intelligence. Before transporting back to Annuvin, he countered back with, "And you called yourself a duchess when you were alive."

<><><>

Night looked off at London. He could dimly a plume of smoke rising in the distance. He wasn't sure though.

He had managed to climb up onto the roof of Number 14. He knew Zylle would scold him if she found out, but for some reason, he felt the need for air. A few hours ago, he felt a disturbance in the energies of the wind. Also, he had sensed the presence of something...unnatural.

When he had gotten home from training with Professor Coulter, he had found his grandmother and Hans sitting at the kitchen table pensively. He was going to ask what was going on. The sole reason he was home that early was because Professor Coulter had reacted to that strange energy. But he decided not to at the last minute. Gran was especially unresponsive. He decided to let it be. If only I could ask Zylle. But Zylle hadn't come home yet. When he checked her room before he managed his way to the roof, she wasn't there. He guessed it had something to do with the disturbance.

Night looked up at the black sky. The moon was pure white. The woman had said to speak to the night goddess when the moon was red. But when would that happen?

He traced the design on his arm. Night had gotten the tattoo only yesterday. There, emblazoned on his arm, was the dragon of the Arashi-Tenku. He now bore the mark of the Storm Sky Dragon. Since the tournament hadn't taken place yet, it was only the gray outline. But afterward, it would reflect his rank.

Night knew that he would enter the tournament. And he would do his best to get in the top four, if not first. He owed it to Zylle.

"What on Earth are you doing up here?"

He started and looked around. There standing looking down on him was Zylle. Her dark hair was as messier than it usually was and her gray eyes were tired. She plopped down next to him. Night noticed that she seemed exhausted.

Immediately, he asked, "What happened?"

Zylle sighed. "In the morning. We'll discuss it in the morning."

He frowned. This was really unlike her. "Are you alright?"

"No," she answered baldly. Her gaze was centered on the stars. "Far from alright. But," she reached over and mussed his black hair. Soon, it was as messy as her own was. "Even though you are happy here, I know you want to know who you really are."

Night didn't bother to put her right. "Maybe...when I do find out, I can stay here with you?" He leant his head on to her shoulder. It felt good to do this. Somehow, he knew that he never received this sort of attention before.

Zylle put her arms around his thin shoulders and hugged him. Needless to say, he was shocked at the gesture, but returned the embrace. It felt...nice. Like he was safe, that he wasn't going to be hurt anymore. "I'm going to have a hard time letting you go, kiddo," she murmured.

"I know, Mum."

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