The Phoenix and the Serpent

The Phoenix and the Serpent

The entire Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling. Any original characters belong to the author and may not be used without permission.

Chapter XII: Out of the Shadows, Into the Night

He was running through the gray coiling mist, amidst wind-blasted trees and moist, leaf-strewn grounds. His left hand curled around the Crystal Cage, clutched at it so tightly the edges bit into his skin. The doom of the Dark Lord. It was glowing again, shining beacon-bright through the cracks in his fist. He could hear his heart throbbing madly in his ears, or perhaps it was the Crystal, pulsing in his hand. It seemed to be urging him on. He could feel its power running down his arm, filling and exhilarating him. He had found its secret. And he was going to make the Dark Lord pay.

Something appeared in the mists ahead, an old, ramshackle mansion surrounded by a high brick wall and a rusty gate. The Riddle house--he had seen it before in a dream. The Dark Lord was hiding there somewhere, cowering like a wounded fox, waiting for his end.

The gate shrieked in protest as Harry shoved it aside and rushed down the footpath towards the house. The entrance stood open, its double doors hanging off its hinges; Harry hurtled past them and up the stairs. He strode down a dimly-lit hall, turned left, and there at the far end, a door of bolted ironwood. He ran towards it with his wand drawn--"Alohomora!"--it opened with a shuddering groan.

The shadows swallowed him as he entered. Harry waited for his eyes to adjust. Voldemort was here--he knew it, he could sense it. He was not going to get away, oh no. Harry was going to make him answer for the countless lives he had ruined. He was finally going to avenge his parents, Cedric and himself.

A chittering sound at his feet. Harry looked down and saw tiny lights, little blue and green stars forming odd constellations on the floor. No, not stars. Scores of glowing insects were scattered there. His eyes adjusted a bit, and he realized that beneath them was an enormous map of Britain.

As he tried to comprehend all this, someone spoke in the gloom. Harry's eyes snapped up as a candelabra flared green flame in shadows ahead, a light that illumed the hateful face of the Dark Lord. But his eyes did not stray to Harry. Voldemort was speaking into the candle flame. Harry could not make out much of what he was saying, but one word rang out clearly. It filled him with a deadly fear, so potent that his wrath died like a spark in a sudden gust. And as his courage failed, so did the light of the Crystal.

Voldemort blew out the flame, and Harry was plunged in darkness. It became harder to breathe; the heavy air felt cold and oppressive, as if the room were suddenly filled with ghosts. Panic gripped Harry's mind, ran down his spine to the tips of his hands and toes. His eyes fell on the pinpricks of light on the map. One of them shone brighter than the others, a pulsing violet glare that cut into his brain. The insects buzzed louder, reaching crescendo. His scar began searing into his flesh. Harry clutched at his head and fell to his knees. He wanted to retch. He wanted to scream.

Then someone spoke again. This time not the high, cold voice he hated, but someone gruff and familiar.

"Wake up."

"What?" said Harry. His head throbbed, wanting to split open. He shook it hard. Vertigo pushed him onto his back.

"Wake up." Someone wiped a cold wet rag on his face. "You're still dreaming. C'mon now, wake up!"

"Can he even hear you?" said another familiar voice.

"Have to try sometime. Better than sitting around with our hands on our laps."

Another voice, this one a stranger's, said, "There're still some toxins left in his system. His body needs to rest to fight the last of it off."

"How do you supposed he can do that if he hasn't eaten or drunk anything in two days?"

Harry realized the darkness before him was shifting, turning into a murky gray haze. He realized he was lying down on something soft. I am dreaming, he thought, and struggled to open his eyes.

The pain and the buzzing noise began to subside. Light bled into his vision, blurred colors appearing through the mist. He gazed up at three faces hovering above him.

Mad-Eye Moody, an eye-patch covering his magical eye, stared down at him from the right side of the bed. Beside the old man, a blonde stranger in purple robes was training what looked like a magnifying glass attached to his wand at Harry's bandaged left arm. At the foot of the bed stood Daniel Oaks, arms crossed and a look of relief on his lean face.

"Well," said Danny, grinning broadly, "welcome back to the land of the living, Robbie."

"Steady there, lad," said Moody. He reached out a hand and touched Harry's forehead. "How're you feeling?"

Harry tried to speak but his tongue refused to work properly. He swallowed, relaxed his jaws, and tried again.

"I'm alright."

"He's still partially paralyzed," observed the stranger, tucking away his magnifying glass.

Paralyzed? Harry tried to sit up, but it felt as if invisible chains were holding him to the bed. "What's wrong with me?" he asked.

"You've got nothing to worry about." The stranger gave him a reassuring smile. He looked quite young, and had the expression of a child who had just solved a challenging puzzle. "It's just the after-effects of Corsulus, keeping you from having full control of you muscles."

Moody said, "By the way, Robert, this is Covenant Bishop..."

"Uh, just Coven, please," said the young man, wincing. "Pleased to meet you, Robert." Harry realized that the Polymien Pill was still active, so Coven did not know who he really was.

"He's a Medi-Wizard sent by the Order," Moody went on. "Flew in last night from Birmingham."

"And luckily I got here in time." Coven bent closer to examine Harry's bandaged arm. "Another hour and the paralysis might've spread through your body and frozen your heart. Lumos." His wand suddenly lit up. "Could you keep your eyes wide open please?"

Harry did. Coven briefly shone his wandlight into his eyes, then shut it off. "Good. Can I ask you to please wiggle your fingers, if you can?"

Harry looked at his right hand. He managed to wiggle the fingers of his right hand, but his left arm stung when he tried to move it.

"It hurts?" asked Coven.

"Yes, a little bit."

"Try your toes."

Harry tried it. It was harder this time, as his legs felt like plywood. He could feel his toes move, at least. Moody's nod confirmed it for him.

"Well," said Coven, "it looks like your left arm's the only problem."

"Would some conventional cures help?" asked Moody. "Probably some chocolate around here somewhere..."

"Chocolate only works for psychosomatic symptoms, such as a Dementor's negative energies. Corsulus is completely physical, which is why we should rely on the poultice. Applied regularly, it shouldmake the paralysis go away."

"What, no guarantees?" pressed Danny.

"No, there aren't. But seeing that his pupils dilate, there's no discoloration of the skin around the wound, and no speech or hearing problems, I'm willing to put good money on a full recovery." He looked at Harry again. "One more thing--do you feel hungry?"

Harry blinked. "Well, I...now that you mention it..."

"That wasn't a test, actually. But since you haven't eaten in a while, I think you'll do with some soup and plenty of water."

Moody turned and looked expectantly at Danny. "Well?"

"Wha--me?"

"Yes, you. Get about it!"

Danny's lower lip stiffened, but he turned and went out the room without another word.

"Excuse me," said Harry. "What is it I've got again?"

"Corsulus, otherwise known as Wight Blight," replied Coven. "It's a disease found on the extremities of some undead creatures. Deadly, but fortunately not incurable if treated early."

"...And you're really a Medi-Wizard?"

Coven laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "I get that a lot. To be honest, I just graduated. License is due next month. I don't look it, but I'm actually twenty-five years old." He leaned forward eagerly. "My turn. Did you really take on a thousand-year old vampire?"

The image of Wagnard's death throes crashed into Harry's mind. He blanched and shook his head. Coven took the hint.

"Sorry," he said, "my brother always said I was way too nosy. In any case, you're really lucky to be alive."

"Don't we know it," grumbled Moody, unhooking the flask from his belt. "I even miss standing guard at Headquarters." He paused before taking a swig. "Actually, that's not true. I don't miss standing guard at all."

Coven chuckled, then said, "Listen, I'd love to stay and keep an eye on you, but they need me back at Birmingham. I've still got a lot of jinx patients to attend to."

"How are things going for the Order?" Moody asked him.

Coven shook his head as he put his instruments in his knapsack. "More injured come in everyday. We Medi-Wizards do what we can, but we lack resources and manpower. I say the sooner the Ministry sides with us, the better."

He finished packing and retrieved his broom from the corner.

"Still haven't gotten the hang of Apparating, eh?" Moody said, smirking.

"Don't start. I'll be taking a third exam next week. Maybe then I'll be able to Disapparate without leaving a body part behind." He looked at Harry and said, "I've given Mr. Moody some Agrias's Balm, which I've applied on your wound. All you'll need to do is keep applying it once a day. Got it?"

Harry nodded, and the Medi-Wizard got on his broom and waved his wand at the window. The wooden pane stretched open to accommodate him.

"H-hey, wait" said Harry, and Coven paused. "Thanks a lot. I guess I owe you my life."

Coven laughed and rubbed his head again. "Don't be so dramatic--it's my job. Besides, if Mr. Moody here hadn't used any first aid, then there wouldn't have been much left for me to work with. He and Daniel hadn't slept a wink since you were attacked."

Harry turned to look at Moody, who seemed a bit uncomfortable. "Eh, get going," he said, waving Coven off. "I'll let your brother know how much of a help you've been once we get back."

Coven nodded, then tapped his wand on his forehead. It seemed to Harry as if invisible paint was being poured on him and his broom. "I'll be seeing you soon!" said Coven's disembodied voice. "Good luck!"

There was a sudden rushing noise, then the window returned to its original size.

"So," said Moody, sitting down on the chair beside the bed.

"So," said Harry, his gaze studiously avoiding Moody. "Did you, uh, fix the window?"

"What?"

"The window's not smashed. Did you fix it?"

"No. We moved to another room, is all. I made sure Mr. Morrow won't remember a thing of it."

"Oh, I see."

They were quiet for a minute. Then the door suddenly opened and Danny came in, bearing a tray with steaming bowl of soup and tall glass of water. "Here's breakfast," he said, "Anything else you want me to get? Truffles? Silk pajamas? Some fine sherry wine?"

"How 'bout some peace and quiet to start with?" retorted Moody, "Get yourself downstairs and stand guard!"

"Whatever you say," said Danny, doing an about-face.

"Leave the tray!"

"Right." Danny set it on the table and marched out the door, closing it not too softly.

"Chinless twit, always clowning around," muttered Moody as he got up from the chair and lurched towards the table. "Well, at least you've mostly recovered," he said to Harry. "The sooner we can get you to Hogwarts, the better."

"Mr. Moody?"

The old man stopped and gave him a sidelong glance.

Harry hesitated, then said, "I just want to say...thanks. For looking out for me."

Moody inclined his head, and Harry realized his look was one of respect. "My job. But just so you know, you do a good job of looking out for yourself. Moreover, you got what we came for."

Harry's eyes widened. "The Crystal Cage--"

"Its right where you left it," Moody replied, pointing. "In your hand."

Harry blinked, then reached his right hand beneath his left. The Crystal was there, its cool flesh nestled in his numb fingers. He picked it up to look at it.

"We didn't want to touch it," Moody began, but didn't finish his sentence.

Harry examined the crimson gem in its metal twine. The snapped chain hung loosely against his hand; it had been broken during the struggle in the churchyard.

"Did you find out anything about it?" asked Moody.

Harry nodded. "The vampire...Wagnard...he said he'd been searching for it for hundreds of years. He wanted to free the Cimmerian Sorceress. But when he finally found the Crystal, it wouldn't let him leave this place." He turned his eyes up to Moody . "What if...what if it has a mind of its own?"

The old Auror wrinkled his forehead. "There's an unsettling thought. Though if it can, it doesn't seem to mind having you for its owner."

Harry gazed deeply into the Crystal, as if he could divine its secrets if he looked carefully enough. The gem's opaque facets reflected his distorted image. He saw no spark, no sign at all that it possessed any kind of magic.

"So much," he whispered, "for something so small."

"Yeah," replied Moody. He turned and reached for the tray. "It isn't over yet," he added. "You still have to figure out how the damn thing works, then use it against the Dark Lord."

Harry suddenly tore his eyes from the Crystal. Moody's words brought something back to mind. "Mr. Moody, I...I had a dream just now! About Voldemort!"

Moody's hand froze just as it touched the tray. He did not turn around, but Harry felt his magical eye on him. "What did you see?"

Harry frowned, struggling to recall his vision. "He was holding a candelabra with green flames, and he was talking to it."

This time Moody did turn around, his gnarled face oddly expressionless.

"And?"

"I only understood one thing he said..." Harry blinked, then looked up to meet Moody's gaze in fearful epiphany.

"He said....Hillsdale."

A deep silence rang between the two of them, but it did not last for long. A humming sound, like that of high-tension wire, suddenly cut through the air.

At the corner of the room, Moody's Dark Detector was spinning furiously on its axis.

---

In the common room, Danny eased back on his chair and propped his feet on the table. At the moment, he was doing what he was told to do, which was to guard the place. He was also imagining what it would be like to have his hands around Mad-Eye Moody's neck.

The old badger was obviously still peeved at him over that vampire debacle, and was deliberately keeping him away from their charge. Yes, it was wrong to leave Robert unguarded, and yes, it had been a bad idea to go drinking on the job, but it wasn't as if they were expecting anything like that! An ancient vampire! Unbelievable!

Now Moody had reduced his role to that of a courier and gofer. He hated that most about his godfather, the way he always thought of his godson as some cheap amateur. As if he hadn't done quite well for himself over the years. Never mind that he had helped kill that monster. Never mind that his quick reflexes had actually saved Robert's life.

Some small part of him whispered that he probably wouldn't have had to do any of that if he'd been a little more cautious in the first place, but he suppressed that voice. It sounded a lot like Moody's.

"'Now you can try to justify your fee,'" said Danny, mimicking Moody's jibe. "Ah, put a sock in it, Cue-Ball."

At the very least, they could go any time now that Robert's awake. They'd take the Portkey back to Evensdale, then he'd collect his fee from Dumbledore, go back to his shack in the woods and forget about the whole bloody thing.

From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a shadow flit across a window.

Danny sat straight up, frowning. Probably just a pedestrian, or a cop walking his beat. But the memory of his previous failure came back to him, and Danny gritted his teeth and got up from the chair. He approached the window and peered out. The sidewalk was empty in both directions, save for dried leaves pushed about by little eddies of air. The midday sky was an overcast gray, threatening rain. Across the street, the faces of abandoned buildings glared at him with empty sockets. He made a show of shrugging and walked back to his chair, then doubled back to the front door and listened. Not a sound from the outside. No rustle of cloth, no tread of feet. It did not relieve his suspicion.

Hand on his wand, he slowly eased the door open. He stepped outside and looked about. The streets were empty, and oddly quiet.

Danny heard a sudden pop! from behind him. Even as he pulled out his wand he felt the blunt tip of another against the nape of his neck.

"Put your hands up, slowly," someone ordered.

Danny hesitated, then did as he was told. Two more strangers Apparated at his sides, one of which relieved him of his wand.

"Good morning," dead-panned Danny. "Nice to see a fellow tourist around here."

"Search him," said the man behind him. The one on his left began frisking him.

"Ah, whoa," said Danny, "look, I've got a knife in my left pocket and some matches in my right. Look anywhere else and I'll get ticklish."

He was relieved of these items, then the man behind him pulled him about by the shoulder. Danny's eyes widened in shock when he saw the dark robes and the black masks. "What the hell?"

Three wands were now pressed against his throat. "How many people are in there?" demanded the Death Eater on his right, gesturing at the inn.

"I've got two dozen of my friends up there waiting for me," Danny replied. "Want me to call them?"

Answering scowls came from his three assailants, but a fourth voice from somewhere behind him said, "Never mind. There are at most three other people in there according to the intelligence report. Let him lead us upstairs."

They shoved Danny towards the entrance. "Ah, you don't want to be staying too long around here," said Danny, opening the door. "It's not a very good vacation spot. Everyone's tight-lipped, the accommodations are uninspiring, and we've had recent problems with rodents of unusual size..."

"Very smart mouth you got, runt." One of them jabbed a wand at his back, forcing him into the common room. "I'm inclined to know how smart you can get when I blow another mouth through the back of your head. Just try and give me a reason to do it."

"Okay, okay, let's not be hasty." There was little chance he could take these jokers by surprise. Danny could only hope that Moody happened to be looking down right now.

All heads turned as the kitchen door suddenly swung open. "Would you like some oranges, Mr. Oaks?" asked Mr. Morrow as he came in, a bowl of fruit in his hand. "I just got some from--hoh, what's going on?" He stared bemusedly at the group of robed men.

One of the Death Eater aimed his wand at the innkeeper. "LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Danny shouted, "HE'S NOT--!"

A crimson blaze ripped through the air, and the old man went flying. The bowl in his hands exploded, scattering bits of fruit and ceramic. Mr. Morrow vanished back into the kitchen, the door swinging wildly in his wake.

All rational thought dissolved from Danny's mind in a red haze. He grabbed the Death Eater's arm and with a twist sent him hurtling towards the wall. He turned about, fist balled, to punch his nearest enemy.

"Imperio!"

A sudden burst of magic caught him full in the face. At first, everything looked so white, he thought he'd stepped into a cloud. And when it lifted, Danny found that there wasn't a trace of anger in his mind. Why should he be angry? He was among friends! The three men standing in front of him (and the one on his back over there) were the most trusted companions anyone could ask for! In fact, they were the only things that seemed real--everything else looked blurred and colorless. He gazed happily at the men, waiting for them to speak.

"That pasty-faced bastard," the man on the floor roared as he got up, making Danny wonder why he was so mad. "I'm going to blow his hands off and--"

"You'll do nothing of the sort," said the man before him. "We've wasted enough time already. Take us upstairs."

Danny felt like he was in a deep well, and someone was talking down to him. Only too glad to comply, he turned and walked towards the staircase. It seemed so right to do what he was told. He felt very light and giddy. Together they climbed to the second floor.

"Take us to the room where your friends are," whispered the man behind him. Danny nodded, smiling. Sure, why not? The more the merrier. He turned right and ambled down the narrow hall, counting the doors as he went. One sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy. Here it is, right-ho! Danny stopped and faced the room, like a hound pointing with its nose.

His friends stealthily followed him. Two of them flattened themselves on either side of the door while the other two took up places behind him. Danny wondered why they were acting so funny.

"Let them know you're here. Tell them you just dropped something. Tell them you need a little help."

"Hey Moody, Robbie!" shouted Danny. "That was me--just dropped some stuff downstairs! Hey, could you lend me a hand?"

"Very good. You did very well." The compliment was the sweetest sound he'd heard. Danny felt like smiling for days. It felt so good to take orders. Not thinking was the greatest freedom he had ever had in his life.

"Now, let them know you're coming in and open the door."

"I'm coming in, all right?" Daniel put his hand on the doorknob, then stopped. Something about this felt, well, wrong. He wasn't supposed to open the door for some reason. He stood still, suddenly unsure.

"Open the door."

'Hang on, I'm working on it,' mouthed Danny. He turned the knob, but stopped halfway. He felt oddly guilty, like he was betraying someone. Someone he was supposed to protect. No, that can't be...can it? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Three for a girl, four for--a boy?

"Open the door, now!"

A universe of pain blossomed in Daniel's head. He could not resist. With a groan, he twisted the knob.

---

Harry gulped as the door slid open. He lay perfectly still on the bed, watching as Daniel walked into the room. One look at the tall boy's face told him the whole story--there was no spark of personality in Danny's eyes, just a vacant expression and a haphazard smile. Harry remembered when Barty Crouch had put him under the Imperius Curse, and felt a twinge of sympathy.

Danny was shoved forward as one of the Death Eaters burst in, training his wand all around the room. His eyes roamed over the shelves, to the table and the untouched tray of food, and finally fell onto the bed. Harry held his breath.

"There's no one in here!" said the intruder angrily. Immediately, two more Death Eaters pushed into the room and looked about. Harry could see the fourth one peering in from his place beside the door.

As they looked about dumbfounded, Harry's eyes inched up to the top of the doorframe. Suspended by magic, Moody's trunk was hanging in mid-air over the entrance. In fact, right over the head of one of the intruders.

Without warning, the trunk crashed onto the Death Eater and both hit the ground. His two companions whirled about, just as the door across the hall burst open.

"STUPEFY!" bellowed Mad-Eye Moody.

The Death Eater outside the door had no time to react--he was blown against the wall and knocked out cold. The remaining intruders raised their wands in alarm, but Harry reacted faster. Throwing off his Invisibility Cloak, he pointed his own wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

The nearest Death Eater cried out as the wand leaped out of his hand, but was cut off as Moody Stupefied him. Grinning savagely, Moody leaped over his trunk in the doorway to finish off the remaining Death Eater. But the last one whirled about, and Harry found himself looking at the glowing end of his wand. He knew it was coming, the Killing Curse. Harry raised his wand automatically, but his mind went blank before the deadly light in the hooded man's eyes.

Lanky arms shot out from behind the Death Eater. His cry of surprise was cut off as one hand locked around his jaw, and another wrapped around his wrist. His wand tilted upwards and discharged harmlessly at the ceiling.

The Death Eater's eyes rolled towards his attacker, and a look of fear appeared in them. Danny's face was twisted in ungodly rage.

"Order me around, will you?"

Grabbing the man's wand arm in both hands, Danny twisted his wrist till the wand dropped to the ground. He then took his enemy by the back of the neck and he hurled him against the wall. The Death Eater struck it face-first, bounced off and fell spread-eagled onto his back, out cold.

Harry looked about their ruined quarters, and felt a grim satisfaction. All around were the defeated forms of Voldemort's servants, and Moody was laying them up with Full-Body Bind spells. They had won again.

But why were they here?

His head snapped up as Moody trudged over to him. "You all right, boy?" he growled.

"I am," said Harry. "Hey...Danny?"

The young man was swaying on his feet, apparently still recovering from the effects of the Imperius spell. Moody grabbed his godson's shoulder to steady him.

"They...they got him!" croaked Danny.

Moody's brows furrowed. "What?"

"They got Mr. Morrow! He's hurt! Downstairs--"

He didn't have to say anymore. Moody immediately rushed out the door and lurched down the hall to the stairs. Harry suddenly felt sick. So that was the crashing noise downstairs. He hoped the old innkeeper was still alive.

He tried to push himself up. "Danny, what happened downstairs? What did they do to--"

He froze as a wand was thrust against his forehead. He looked up, met Danny's hard, gray eyes.

"Danny, what--?"

"Don't move," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "You're not going anywhere. Not until you tell me who the hell you really are."

To be continued

Chapter XIII: Black Barrier