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Author: hwimsey Story: The Coven of Echoes Rating: Teens Status: Completed Reviews: 37 Words: 163,077
The explosion was deafening. Ginny fell hard to the ground, her face smashing against the grass. Blackness was everywhere. “Faith!” she screamed, raising her neck. “Faith!” In the stygian darkness, she could see nothing. A sharp-nailed hand grabbed her arm. “Get up! Now! Run!” Dragged through the blindness, Ginny could hear the sound of a scream; Lucy bellowed wildly. “Faith!” Ginny shouted. “Shut up! She’ll hear you. This way!” a voice hissed in her ear. Ginny fought back, straining to reach the screams. “She’ll have you, too! You can’t help her! The blackness will only last a minute longer. Run, damn it!” The blood curdling caws of a hawk pierced the sky above them. Ginny ran for what seemed like forever. Her legs burned; her lungs were on fire. Then the air grew wet and cool and branches lashed against her cheeks. The black fog around her cleared. She stood in the Forbidden Forest. Tamsyn was standing next to her, gulping lungfuls of air. “What happened?” cried Ginny. “The gypsy --- she’s seized her. Transformed out of a hawk . . she threw a net . . .” Tamsyn, bent over, held her knees a moment then hiked up her head to peer into the overhead sky. “Here, take this.” She handed her an Invisibility Cloak. “Use it to get back to the castle. Tell McGonagall that Madam Kouszlova has taken the girl.” “Where are you going?” “To Iona.” “Like hell!” said Ginny. “You’re not going anywhere. You think I’m going to let you run off with her?” “What?” “What did she promise you? Money? Power? Harry?” “How dare you! I saved your life, you --” Tamsyn raised her hand as though to slap Ginny then pulled it back at the last minute. “How dare you say I would help such a thing?” She made a fist and stared up into the canopy of branches and cursed. “Get back to the castle before I hex you.” Ginny didn’t move an inch. “Why – why didn’t you leave with her? Or is this one of her plans? To get us to trust you?” “I saved your life. I don’t care if you trust me. Get back to the school where you belong.” “Well it won’t work. Everyone suspects you – you must know that.” “Suspects what?” cried Tamsyn clearly losing her patience. “What are you talking about?” “You tampered with the tea before Professor Flitwick could analyze it, didn’t you? And you made certain Harry wasn’t at his flat in London that night. You kept him at that pub, weeping your eyes out,” Ginny shouted. She knew she was rambling now, but she didn’t care. The Auror cursed. “I do not have the time to listen to your insane rantings.” Suddenly, she wheeled around and grabbed Ginny and yanked her behind her. A rustling of wind knocked a branch against a far tree. An owl had taken flight into the sky. Tamsyn exhaled and closed her eyes. In that instant Ginny spotted it. Tamsyn’s standard-issue back-up wand was lodged into her boot. Ginny lunged and yanked it free. “Expelliarmus,” she cried. Tamsyn’s wand blasted from her hands into the faraway trees. “Stay right where you are. It’s not mine, but I can still hurt you.” Tamsyn’s eyes met Ginny’s, ignoring the wand pointed into her face. “Give me back my wand, you silly girl,” she spat. “Perhaps we should walk up to the castle and have a talk with Professor McGonagall and some Essitaserum? How did you know about the tea? How did you get to it first?” The Auror did not blink. “What do you mean, ‘get to it first?’ Professor Flitwick asked for my assistance in examining that tea. I did not know what it was until he told me. I was annoyed that this was kept from me, especially since I am much more experienced. He had grown frustrated because he could find no charmwork within the mixture. You can ask him yourself if you like. It was a better use of my time than researching things that were available only to Unspeakables. We’ve worked together for many hours. I am still working with him on it. There is something there, I am certain; it is something subtle. He does not see it, but I do. Now if you are done, I --” “What about Harry?” The Auror hissed in frustration. “What about him?” “When you asked him to Wimpoles and kept him waiting. Then you kept him there. Meanwhile, I see you two back at his flat. You mean to tell me that was all a coincidence?” A slight tremor passed over Tamsyn’s face. Ginny lowered the wand a fraction. “Wimpoles? That was when Rene . . .” She paused, her lips opening before she continued. “I was in great pain – and Harry was there for me. He is an honorable man. He has always treated me with respect. I made a fool of myself that night. Even worse when he took me home. I have wanted to apologize to him. We have never had the chance.” Ginny hesitated. She did not expect this. “It has been difficult to see you treat him so poorly. He deserves much better. It is difficult to care for a man whose true love cares so little and trusts him even less. I do not regret my jealously. I only hope to find such a man some day.” Ginny felt as though she had been punched in the gut. A truth burned in the Auror’s eyes that Ginny could not deny. “Then how, how did Madam Kouszlova know our every step if you didn’t tell her?” It was Tamsyn’s turn to look brutalized. “I have nothing but my honor. March me up to that woman right now! She can pour a bottle of Essitaserum down my throat. All that will do is prove I am telling the truth and that thing,” she shot her hand into the sky, “will be getting away. Is that what you want?” Tamsyn panted as though she had been running. Her face was harsh, more Veela than human. “What . . . what is your plan?” “Apparate to the coast and fly to Iona. It is the fastest way.” Ginny glanced back at the castle. McGonagall would not let either one of them leave, that was certain. Owls would take far too long. She had Tamsyn’s wand – she was not unarmed. Do not let her out of your sight, he had told her. They would argue about the technicalities later. “Accio brooms!” Ginny cried envisioning a pair she had seen left beside the entrance gates. Moments later, the whizzing of two brooms split the air. “I hope you can ride,” remarked Tamsyn. “Stay under the Invisibility Cloak. She may still be nearby.” “Don’t worry,” shot back Ginny, pocketing Tamsyn’s wand in her robes and running to retrieve the other. “For safe keeping,” she said, clenching the other wand in her hand. Tamsyn said nothing. The two women kicked off from the ground and shot into the night. They flew over the mountains, the wind biting their cheeks, their hair flaming behind them in streaks of red and gold. Hunched over their brooms, they did not speak. Ginny’s mind was racing. It was a deadly gamble she had entered. But she was holding both wands and Tamsyn had saved her life. Though had she saved it merely to have it taken by another? *** Harry stood in the library and watched the sun dip below the horizon. He was filled with a sense of foreboding. He did not know why. It had all gone too well. Everything was falling into place. They now had everything they needed to capture and destroy the Letter. Ginny and Faith were safe at Hogwarts and Tamsyn was sequestered there. Tamsyn. There were still too many unanswered questions surrounding that Auror. He could not risk having her be part of this. Areids and Harry had spoken to each other little the rest of the day. The two men had accepted their fate – that their lives were inexorably linked. A bond had formed between them from the moment Areids’ name had hung in the air reforming into their destiny. They both knew, though neither would say, that if they failed in their quest, they would lose everything. For only in succeeding did they hope to find some peace, some hope of reclaiming a life they both had held for a wrinkle of time. They had no choice but to trust in each other despite every impulse against it. “Harry, what do you think of Aidan’s offer?” asked Tonks. She was sitting at a table covered in maps and parchments where for most of the day the monk had helped them plan their approach to Staffa. Remus was on one side of her, Ron the other. Areids was standing by the fire. “I think it puts the monks at tremendous risk.” Harry repeatedly had tried to turn down Aidan’s offer of reinforcements. “But he’s worried, Harry – and he’s right,” Tonks pressed. “We don’t know who we’re going to encounter once we reach the island. The Coven, Death Eaters – both of them. We’re going to need more manpower. But are you certain they’re adequately trained?” “Adequately? Yes.” “What about more Aurors?” suggested Remus. “It’d draw too much attention. A ton of Aurors flying through the skies. No way. We want to get in and out of there tonight as quickly as possible,” said Areids. “Why can’t we just fly to the island?” asked Ron. “Why are we risking our necks in a boat?” “It’s the enchantment of the island. Aidan told me,” replied Harry. “We won’t be able to land.” He shuddered inwardly, remembering the monk’s dire warning over dinner: Your broom would ignite once you broke the perimeter. Even if you came in low you would stand very little chance of survival. You’d be cast to the cliffs. Trust me, my son, you will need all your strength for what lies within. “Let’s talk about what we know -- what’s in our favor,” said Tonks, her voice forcing encouragement. “We know the layout and formation of the island – where we can dock and at the entrance to the caves,” said Areids brusquely. “It’ll be tricky in the darkness, but doable. We know we’ll certainly have to sing the Taghairm – after that all bets are off. But we’ve always known that. Three tasks to perform. Then we reach it and destroy it. End of story.” “Cocky bastard,” Harry heard Remus whisper. Remus was still bristling at the thought of being left behind with the monks. Tonks was the one who had finally convinced him: it was far too close to the full moon and he was too weak for full on battle. “Well, we better gear up,” said Ron pointing toward the black cloaks and clothes Aidan had provided. The material felt like silk between his fingers. “You reckon this stuff is resilient enough?” Harry had worn it during all his frigid mornings here, sparing and running along the cliffs. It was like armor, but light as air. It’d do fine. A knock came from the door. Brother Thaddeus greeted them, a lantern in his hands. “The boats are ready as are the brothers. You will have a small window of opportunity to approach the caves. The tides are turning. We must away.” Tonks turned to face Remus. He grasped her hand. They had done this countless times – there was nothing new in it, merely the acknowledgment of love and pain. She kissed him on the cheek and exited. The others followed. Harry turned to face Remus. The older man took a step forward and hugged Harry like a father, whispering something Harry could not quite decipher. Harry simply said, “Watch over Ginny.” Remus nodded, his grey eyes glistening. Vespers had begun. The melancholy and mysterious strains calmed Harry’s heart. He took a deep breath and peered into the courtyard hoping for one last look at the fountain. “Harry, you must hurry,” said the monk and led him away from the cloister. “We will be stationed as we discussed around the periphery of the island. If you need us, send up a gold flare. We will not delay.” “Where is Aidan?” Harry asked as they began to descend the stairs to the gate, the stained glass windows reflecting their saints into the night. “In prayer. Remember, Harry, ‘He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.’ Aidan will be with you, do not doubt.” Harry’s heart swelled at the words. Surrounded by all those he held dear, he gazed off into the deep violet of the night. Out there was the small island. The beginning and the end. He would destroy what lay hidden there and save himself. Save all of them. The approach to Staffa was difficult enough on a sunlit day with a calm sea. It was nearly unthinkable in a blackened churning sea. Their boat tossed on greater and greater swells. They shivered, not from the icy chill of the air, but from violence of nature that no magic could quell. The moon above glowed in rage, fighting to draw the bowels of the ocean back to it. Ron looked green even in the dark. Tonks clasped his shoulder as another massive rise of water lifted the boat like it was paper. Areids controlled the direction with his wand – the best sailor of the lot. At last, Harry saw the far off island of Staffa rise in the darkness. His heart beat loudly in his chest. He licked his lips, tasting the wet salty air that sprayed against his face, slicking his hair to his cheeks and forcing him to charm his glasses so he could see. A chill ran through him that had little to do with the turbulent sea. “Lumos,” whispered Areids and shown his wand ahead. The sound of breakers crashing on rocks and an eerie echo like a protracted sigh pierced the night. Everyone else shined their wand, creating a spotlight against the agitated water. The loose sand kicked up by the surf sparkled like diamonds. The approach was harrowing. Above their heads, great basalt columns flanked deep caves intricately curved and distorted. The caves seemed to sigh and whisper. The hair on Harry’s neck and arms stood on end. It knows we’re coming, he thought. The echoes grew louder as their small boat heaved up and down carried by a swell into a great and terrifying cave. Their wands glistened off of the basalt columns that looked like bared teeth in the mouth of the gods. The rocks under the water were speckled in colors like a green tongue. “Into the belly of the beast,” whispered Harry to himself. Struggling against the tide and wind, they finally docked the boat and staggered onto the shore. Their wands bobbed up and down like fireflies in the darkness. The wind howled, bringing to their lips the taste of salt and something strangely warm. “This way,” said Areids, map in hand, and stepped onto a row of fractured columns that led into the mouth of the caves. They glanced back at the boat. The entrance seemed to frame Iona, the Abbey lights twinkling in the night. Harry closed his eyes a moment and hoped that Aidan’s prayers would not be in vain. Then he turned his back on the sea and continued. They quickly reached what they knew from the map to be Fingal’s Cave. It was as though they had stepped into a volcanic concert hall, stretching at least 70 feet above them and 250 into the rock. In single file they walked, the exhalation of the sea growing about them. Areids stopped in his tracks. “We can’t go any more.” They had reached the narrow end of the cave. Their wands showed nothing but solid stone face. Harry swallowed. The memory of Tom Riddle’s cave filled his mind. Areids stepped forward. His fingers brushed along the rough basalt. “Revilio,” he said. With his words, the image of a bird glowed in the stone. Surrounding the bird in an oval were letters that seemed to be coming from the bird’s mouth. Above the bird’s head, the word ‘Taghairm’ glimmered in gold script. Areids repeated the word and moans from the caves billowed across them like a lover’s plea. Harry and Areids shared a look. They both closed their eyes. Taghairm, he thought, concentrating his entire mind on that one word. Tag-hair-m. He opened his mouth and began to sing. The melody, pure and mystical, poured from his lips. Areids had begun to sing, too, except that his melody was deep, the counterpoint to Harry’s. The sound weaved and spun about the other, twining in a mystical oration. Harry was not singing as much as allowing the music to flow through him like magic. As though he had always meant to do this. If he doubted their role in this quest, he doubted no more. He could not sing worth a damn. His voice would make Fawkes proud. They opened their eyes. The wall had remained a solid piece of stone. The echoes had died away. “Again,” muttered Areids. And again they sang. Even more plaintive than last time. The stone remained solid and immutable. They could hear their boat beating against the landing. The tide was coming. Soon the entrance would be under water. Twice more they sang and twice more they failed. The third time Harry opened his mouth, he heard a sound. A sound so pure and beautiful it made his heart leap in joy. Fawkes! From high above, the beautiful phoenix swooped from the darkness gliding down and landing gently on Harry’s outstretched arm. Speechless, Harry caressed the phoenix’s head as it nuzzled against him. After all these years, he had returned! Always when he was most needed. For a split second the bird studied Harry and in its eyes, Harry swore he saw his beloved professor. Tears hung hot in Harry’s eyes and he blinked, dissolving the illusion. The bird raised its neck and began to sing. It sang the same melody, flying high into the top of the cave until the melody bounded off of every column like a heartbeat, like a symphony. In joy and thanks Harry watched in open-mouthed astonishment. The song was a living thing, breathing hope and courage into all of them. With one last swoop, Fawkes soared ever higher, the final strains building to a glorious crescendo. Then he burst into flame and lit up the canopy of the cavern in his sacrifice, exploding spangles of light around them. Heart pounding in his throat, he looked to Ron and Tonks who both seemed to be at once smiling and crying. “Look,” cried Ron pointing toward the wall. It had vanished as though it had never been there. They hurried through it. The moment Tonks and Ron crossed the cave’s threshold, however, they were thrown backwards as though by invisible hands. They tried again, but could not cross. “You’re going to have to stay behind,” Harry told them. “Get to higher ground and keep out of sight. Keep a look out. If you get in trouble, Cieo Cito, okay?” “Don’t keep us waiting,” said Tonks, managing a smile. Harry smiled back and disappeared with Areids into the darkened abyss. Like blind men, they walked, groping the slimy walls with their hands; stray pieces of seaweed hung like soaking cobwebs and slithered across their cheeks as they stumbled. The cave seemed to be closing in on both sides like a vice. In the pitch blackness they heard a sizzle. They wormed about, struggling to reach their wands. Light shot through a crack in the rock. They shut their eyes, squinting in the brilliance. Peering forward, they let out a collective gasp. Through the crack lay a massive cave. They shimmied forward, their lips scraping against the gray rock. Once or twice they got stuck. A sickening feeling of claustrophobia took over Harry. The endless walls of rock were crushing down on him, pressing him in a stone vice. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his chest trapped for a moment. He turned his head to the side and wriggled out the other side. “Whoa!” Areids exclaimed. He lunged out and caught Harry’s arm at the last minute. Harry teetered on an outcropping of rock, balancing on the edge of what looked like a cavernous bowl. From high above, various sized and shaped stalactites hung from the cave’s dank ceiling like fangs. They scrapped against a circle of stalagmites, silent sentinels around the cave’s periphery. Areids pointed straight down. Below them the floor flattened, opening to a circular labyrinth. Tiles of different sizes and shapes shimmered in the torchlight – steps linked together one by one. Twisting and twining to make the design of the Coven’s cross. “‘The lonely island basalt laid, three noble tasks to face thee,’” whispered Harry. “’The sound within the rocks to sing. The path is set before thee.’ What do you suppose . . .” He began to scuttle down the edge toward the labyrinth to get a better look. “Wait,” cried Areids as Harry neared the tiles. “Don’t step any closer.” He crouched down and picked up a large shell and tossed it on the tiles. They waited. Nothing happened. He tossed another on the ground surrounding the labyrinth. Then they heard it. The cave had come to life, yawing in anger like a giant. Instantly, the air about them seemed to change. It knocked them to one side and then the other so that they had to fight to stay upright. Upon the path, a funnel of dirt surrounded the shell, swirling upward like a tornado, raising it from the floor. It spun like a whirling dervish, growing dirtier and thicker until it rose ever higher and hurled it to the ceiling like a dart. It hung there -- another of the endless collection of stalactites. Their eyes rose to see it and they inhaled. Trapped within several of them was what looked like a hand and arm and a leg. Remains of those who had failed. Remains of those who had failed to stay on the path. “After you,” muttered Harry to Areids who raised an eyebrow back at him. “No, I insist,” said Areids. Both men clasped their wands tightly and neared the labyrinth. Harry walked ahead, Areids behind him. The first series of tiles were about two feet square with strange markings on them. “Here goes,” said Harry and took a deep breath. His first step echoed in the caverns. Nothing. He took another. Areids joined him. No wind could be heard, so they didn’t fear a tornado. Only the sea crashing against the columns sounded from far away. That and the hammering of their hearts. Step by step they walked the labyrinth, praying as they did so that each step would not be their last. Harry froze. The shape of the next tile had changed. It resembled a huge slab of turquoise. Carved into the stone was the Latin word, “Concilio.” It was too large to jump. He motioned to Areids. “Easy,” whispered the American. “Concilio? That’s Latin, right?” Harry rolled his eyes. “What the hell do they teach in America?” “How to stay alive. To conciliate? What the hell? We shake hands?” “We’ll see.” Harry stepped on it. Instantly the whole cave began to rumble as though hit by a giant earthquake. Harry whipped his wand from his side expecting to repel crashing stones and columns. Instead the entire labyrinth shook and rose off the ground. It rolled and twisted then capsized like a doomed ship, tipping on its side and sending Harry and Areids flying. Harry could hear Areids scream as they were slammed into the sides of the cave. The sides that were now the floor on which they were standing. Harry had barely a moment to ascertain that they were unharmed when the unmistakable rumble of water sloshing like a giant soda bottle erupted from the mouth of the cave. Water began pouring in, rushing to where they were standing. “Get to higher ground!” Harry screamed. They rushed forward, trying to see if there was a way to climb up the rounded side of the cave. The water smashed their knees as they sloshed forward, barely managing to stand. With each movement the tide became stronger like battling a relentless whirlpool. They were drowning. “Move!” cried Areids. “Keep moving forward!” With their renewed efforts, the walls rumbled. They crashed against rocks like corks on the sea. With all their might they tried to move, but with each stroke the waves crashed upon their heads, dragging them under water. Gasping his last, Areids lurched over to Harry and grabbed his hand, keeping him from going under for the last time. “Look!” he cried and pointed. An opening lay above their heads. “Don’t let go!” he screamed over the deafening torrent. “Swim with me – forward – hard as you can!” With one free hand each they swam forward for their lives. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the cave started to rotate. The opening lowered a fraction. They pitched forward carried by a massive wave. “We’re not moving!” cried Harry. “We’re not, but the cave is,” shouted Areids. Indeed, their efforts were causing the cave to rotate like some geologic hamster wheel. They dove ahead even harder, breaking the water with their arms, swallowing gulps of air and foam. The harder they pushed, the faster the cave rotated. Soon the opening rushed into view a few feet before them. “Hold on!” shouted Harry and clasped Areids’ hand tightly in his. They took a huge mouthful of air; the undertow sucked them down and dragged them to the torrent of water plummeting out the hole. In a gush of white water, they tumbled like Alice down the rabbit hole. Down, down they fell, hurdling through a giant waterfall until they crashed with a heavy jolt onto the floor of the labyrinth. Dazed and exhausted, they blinked in disbelief. The labyrinth had righted itself. The water had vanished. Panting, they helped each other to their feet, bruised and shaken, but completely dry themselves. Areids teetered and Harry grabbed him, keeping him from falling out of the labyrinth. “Thanks.” “Don’t mention it,” said Harry, spitting out a clump of seaweed. “That wasn’t too bad.” Areids glared at him then forced a smirk. “Sure. One down, two to go.” They walked forward, this time Areids in the lead. The tiles had returned to the uniform pattern. Like gray pavers in Aunt Petunia’s garden, thought Harry grimly. The path curled and twisted, taking them to the center and then out again. The mystery of every labyrinth. Areids had stopped suddenly and Harry nearly knocked into him. The tile before them had changed yet again. At their feet a massive orange colored stone shimmered in the torchlight. It resembled milky amber with markings in each corner. “What do you make of them?” asked Areids leaning as far as he could over the slab. “We need Hermione. She’s the one who knows runes. But they don’t look like regular runes. They look like--” “Like Astrological symbols. That one is Taurus, the bull. Bull, I recognize.” Harry bit his tongue. “That’s Leo in that corner. I don’t recognize the other two. So four Zodiac signs. And another word in the center. ‘Veritas.’ Want to take a stab at that?” “Truth,” said Areids dryly. “Your turn then. Just don’t fall off the path.” “I’ll keep that in the front of my mind.” He shot Harry a look as he took a step. Immediately his feet began to slip. He stopped. A fine sheen of dirt had materialized across the amber, making it slicker than the most lethal ice. Harry grabbed his arm and took a step. He slid, barely holding himself steady and wobbled inches away from the edge. His heart pounded within him as he fought to stay upright. “We can’t get any traction. Let’s step back.” The moment they raised their feet, however, a ring of fire flared to life around the outer-lying tiles. The cave wailed, sending a gasp of wind that stirred up the dirt at their feet and forced them back into the flames. Just as before, the more they struggled, the fiercer the wind grew, stoking the fires higher and higher. In unison, they raised their wands and cried, “Aguamenti.” Their wands plumed with water and hit the flames. Like gasoline, it unleashed flames to roar even higher. “No good! It’s no good. We have to solve the puzzle – the puzzle on the tile,” said Areids. “Hurry, the fire’s getting closer.” “Fire . . . Leo – Leo is a lion. What else? July? No.” His eyes tore about him. “Fire. Leo – Leo is a fire sign! A fire sign. Right. What is Taurus?” “I don’t know! What are my choices?” shouted Harry. “Christ, what do they teach you in the U.K? The four elements: fire, water, wind and earth.” “Well we’ve got four of four. With one of them getting too bloody close.” Areids spun around, the wind raging ever stronger. “No, no, we don’t. We have fire, wind and water, but this is sand – it’s not earth. Quick, quick, douse the sand.” The wind had forced them nearly to the edge of the wall of fire by this time. The intense heat was unbearable. The moment the water hit the sand, clumps of dirt formed: sticky mud on which they could gain precious traction. Their progress was slow, like snails, the fire licking their robes. It’s like walking though a nightmare, thought Harry. They were inches near the side. Just a little closer. A little closer. Without warning, a howl of wind swept from the mouth of the cave. At that moment a scene so brutal, so ghastly shot through Harry’s mind. He screamed. Arieds faced him, his own face as white as a sheet. “It’s not real,” Areids screamed to him. Yet he clenched his eyes shut and wailed. We’re in hell. This is hell. We’re going to die here driven insane. With all his might, Harry fought to seal his mind, something he had never accomplished. Scenes of his mother screaming for his life and his father crashing to the floor dead warped with Ginny tied to some post being burned alive, begging for her life. No! his mind screamed. This isn’t real. Like a tortured soul he passed closer and closer to the pit of hell. He felt hands tight about his neck. Areids was choking him. His head snapped back and he bit his tongue. The salty taste of blood filled his mouth. They wrestled with each other both battling unseen monsters. In their last gasp, they fell forward, crashing onto each other. “Stop!” cried Harry. “It’s part of the test! We can’t believe this, it isn’t real! You know that.” Areids’ hands slowly released their grip; he heaved breaths, sweat pouring from his face. “Ye—yes.” “Babe.” A soft voice sighed from behind the flames. “Sinead?” Areids whispered and staggered to his feet. Someone or something stood on the other side of the fire, the side that led off the path. A look of twisted yearning draped the American’s face. “Kiddo, you’re here? You’re alive?” He stood. Harry grabbed him by the shoulders. “Let go of me. Don’t you see? She’s alive! My God, she’s alive.” Tears of joy laced his voice nearly breaking Harry’s heart. Nothing but blackness stood there, nothing but impending death. “Listen to me, Marc. It’s testing you, it knows. It’s hitting you where you’re weak.” He braced himself between Areids and the wall of flame. “Listen to me. It isn’t the truth. Remember, truth? The word on the stone. Concentrate on the truth. She’s dead. She isn’t coming back.” “No,” Areids wailed, his eyes bloodshot. “She’s alive. She made it.” He threw Harry aside. Without thinking, Harry lunged at Areids’ legs and catapulted both of them through the wall of fire that led forward on the path. He curled his body, ready to suffer the searing pain against the flesh of his face, the sizzle of his hair burning to a crisp. Instead, he landed face first onto a cold stone tile. Areids collapsed underneath him. They lay there gasping like dying men, the rattle of breath shaking from their lungs. “You . . . you all right?” Harry muttered, forcing himself to his knees. “Yeah,” said Areids, struggling to raise his head. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” “It was a test. A test. You positive you’re okay?” Areids shook his head, still panting. “The first task tested . . .tested for help,” said Harry more to himself than to Arieds. “The second . . . truth. The third – oh what the hell did the scroll say about the third?” “I think we’re about to find out.” Harry’s eyes met Arieds’. An emerald tile lay behind them. It lay at the outer ring of the labyrinth. It bore no markings, no words. Both men peered into it – only their faces reflected back. Then they realized: Areids’ hand had slid onto it. The floor began to rumble as though a living creature was slamming underneath to break free. The shockwave rippled across the labyrinth. The ground began to rise. Harry jumped to his feet and reached for Areids who flailed on his back. He stumbled and weaved. Harry screamed, but it was too late. In agonizing slow motion, he watched Areids’ foot slip. Just a fraction. Just an inch. But it was enough. “No!” Harry screamed, but he could not hear his own cries. A cyclone of dirt spun around Arieds’ lower body like a frantic snake. Harry lunged and grabbed him wrenching his body from the funnel. The funnel continued to churn, ripping at their clothes and tearing away pieces in offering. Harry hung onto the Auror with all his might. The wind was so wild; the sand stung their eyes and shot knives into their eardrums. Harry huddled over Areids, the teeth of the cyclone biting into his back. He clenched his eyes shut and flew his robes over both of them. The pressure was too intense; Harry could feel blood pounding in his skull. The pain in his ears was excruciating. “Hold on. Just hold on!” The funnel of dirt bashed against them, slapping them brutally. Then it rose. Harry fought all the harder to keep them both on the path. The funnel roared in frustration before releasing them, speeding up into the darkness above and impaling itself on the ceiling forming another stalactite. Harry held onto Areids for a full minute. Until the thundering in his head lessened. He felt a trail of blood trickle down his cheek from a severed eardrum. “Get up. Come on.” Areids didn’t move. Harry looked down in horror. Areids’ legs were encased in hard stone. “Can you hear me? Are you in pain?” said Harry, holding him by the shoulders. Slack-eyed, Areids shook his head. “I can’t feel . . . I can’t feel my legs.” Harry swallowed. “You’re – you’re going to be okay. You’re alive. Stay here. You’re not going to die.” His voice broke at the words. Areids looked like a ghost already. Harry looked around. The funnel had carved out a giant hole. Harry now sat at the top of a great amphitheater. Each ring of the labyrinth formed another row, a long series of steps led to the circular arena far below them. Something moved into the center of the ring. Harry stood and clenched his wand. A single knight entered the amphitheatre. He was clothed in a white tunic and black hood, a sword held at his side. The sword’s partner lay at the opposite side of the floor. The knight raised his head. His black eyes met Harry’s green ones. He raised his sword toward him in challenge. Harry took a step forward when he heard Areids’ whisper. “Harry, remember. Honor. The final task – honor.” Harry nodded and descended the long staircase. The knight remained frozen like some lifelike chess piece. Harry hesitated a moment as he reached the floor. What would happen when he stepped foot on it? Would the knight charge him? The knight, as though sensing his unease, spoke. “Take your weapon, man. Your wand is no good here. We are equally matched and we will remain thus until the fatal blow is leveled. I tell you now, I have battled here since time immemorial. I have never lost. I give you now the chance to leave. To save yourself.” Harry shook his head. There would be no turning back. He stepped confidently onto the floor. The knight’s eyes never left Harry as he bent down and grasped the sword in his hand. It was heavy but finely made. He could see his face reflected in the blade. His cheeks were ruddy and his eyes brilliant. No. There would be no turning back. Harry stood, feeling the full weight of the blade tense his hand and arm. Still the warrior did not move. Harry swung the blade across him; the air sung. Without warning, the knight rushed Harry, his sword high in the air. Harry parried the blow, the ringing radiating down his arm. The battle raged. Harry lunged, crossing blow after blow with the knight. The two men went at each other with a vengeance. The knight as the enchantment had dictated. Harry for his future. Covered in sweat, Harry battled on for what seemed like hours. Parrying one of Harry’s blows, the knight veered to the right and thrust his sword, nicking Harry’s arms. Harry flinched and cursed. Drops of blood began to fall at their feet. Whirling and twisting, they crashed their swords against the other, the metal clashing and echoing above them. Yanking back, Harry heard the knight hiss, Harry’s sword had sliced his leg. A crimson line bled through his white tunic. The knight’s black eyes narrowed and he slashed at Harry’s head. Harry ducked, the blade whizzing through his hair. Harry stared at the crimson line. Hope jolted his heart. This knight was not a figment of his imagination. He was flesh and blood. He could be conquered. He battled with newfound determination. More time passed. Bone tired and exhausted, sweat poured off both the men. On an attack, Harry backed the knight to the side of the floor. Instead of thrusting in offense, the knight staggered up onto the first step. Harry blinked. They were no longer standing on the floor. Harry slashed at the knight’s legs. The knight stumbled and fell. His sword flew from his hands and skittered across the stage, its owner lay collapsed and defenseless on the steps. Harry raised his sword intent to level the final blow. The knight stared back at him with soulless eyes. In that moment, a voice in Harry’s head, not his own, whispered to him. “Stay on the path . . . the good we leave on this earth . . . all things are not as they appear . . . live with honor.” Honor. Suddenly he remembered the scroll: The final act true honor shown, then through thine eyes thou may see. Harry lowered his sword. “Go. Go take your sword. I won’t kill a defenseless man.” The knight reached his feet and staggered to retrieve his sword. He raised it high above his head then lowered it. He turned to face Harry. His black eyes had vanished replaced by the deepest blue Harry had ever seen. The color of peace. “You may pass, Harry Potter. You are a noble man.” With that, the knight vanished. Harry dropped his sword and fell to his knees. Suddenly the floor began to lift. It raised, the rows folding back into each other. Seconds later, he was standing at the edge of the labyrinth. Areids was gasping a few feet away. “Look!” he told Harry, his voice weak. An ebony stand rose in the heart of the labyrinth. It was empty. Harry staggered forward. He could not believe it. After all this, the Letter was gone? “No!” he cried and nearly fell to his knees in anguish. No. He bashed the butt of his palm against his forehead. No! It couldn’t be. There was something he was forgetting. The scroll, the scroll, what had it said at the end? ‘The final act true honor shown, then through thine eyes thou may see.’ Then through thine eyes thou may see. What the hell did that mean? Thine eyes? He yanked off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was too tired to think. He raised his head, blinking into the blurry torchlight. Except it wasn’t blurry. There on the stand sat a golden book encrusted with opals. He approached it. He replaced his glasses and the book disappeared. He pulled them off again. The book returned. He raced forward, his heart beating wildly. He had done it! He was about to grab the book from the stand when he stopped. He closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. It all comes down to faith now. He had done everything. His fingers closed over the gilded cover. Suddenly he froze. Something shivered against his leg. “Bloody hell!” he cried, his heart in his throat, and nearly dropped the book. A second later he realized it was his wand: the Cieo Cito! Ron and Tonks were in trouble. Without hesitating, he wrenched open the book. An ancient tome no larger than a hand sat inside it. Script he could not decipher took up every page. He pocketed the book and grabbed the golden cover. As he raced back to Areids, he heard the sound of shouts from the cave entrance. They had broken through. The Letter had broken the enchantments. Areids’ legs were free and the labyrinth had vanished. The walls rumbled. The columns imploded around them. “It’s going to collapse!” cried Harry. “Move!” B/N: Woo woo!! This chapter came to be completely, fantastically, AMAZINGLY well-written! This bad boy was ready in four days because it kicked ass right from the start. :-) I was so caught up in the intensity and action of everything, I nearly forgot that I was supposed to be editing it!
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