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Shadow of the Serpent | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Action/Adventure Warnings: Death, Extreme Language, Violence Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 537 Summary: **June Dumbledore Silver Trinket Award Winner for Best Angst, and May winner for Best Author** Harry is whisked away to an ancient island to be trained in Occlumency. What he finds is another complication to add to his already complicated life. Will friendship, love, loyalty, bravery, and honor be enough to save him from the Shadow of the Serpent that haunts his life? H/G angst/action adventure. Hitcount: Story Total: 152141; Chapter Total: 5267 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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Deception The ceremony was far from the short, simple thing Hunter had promised. No… it was an all out, no-holds-barred tribal celebration. It seemed practically the entire island was there to see the two candidates hear the rules of the game and see them occupy the same space. It was common knowledge Tlaloc held a grudge against the foreigner — he had made no secret of his animosity towards Harry or his belief that he couldn’t possibly be the powerful sorcerer the Ancient Ones had prophesied about so many years ago. Many were curious to catch a glimpse of Harry up close. He had so far kept himself secluded from the villagers. It wasn’t on purpose, really; he was just so busy training that he didn’t have much time to explore and meet people. When he did have free time, he usually spent it flying. This made the villagers even more in awe of him, and at the same time Harry suspected they were a little scared. Hunter had been right — none of them had ever seen an international racing broom in action before. Apparently his antics in the air had done nothing to quell the talk surrounding him. Everyone wanted to see for themselves if the foreign teenager was really the much anticipated Quetzalcoatl, Defender of Humanity, their Plumbed Serpent Prince reincarnated, and if he lived up to the title. They sat him and Tlaloc at a table by themselves as the guests of honour. Luckily, they were far enough apart that they didn’t have to communicate. Tlaloc just looked straight ahead, his face a stony mask of indifference. Harry remained polite but couldn’t help his nervousness when his magic got out of control again and he accidentally levitated everything on the table an inch or two off the surface. It was easily corrected with a wave of his hand — he was quite used to accidents like this by now — but, all the same, it was embarrassing to have it happen in front of so many people. It didn’t help when Tlaloc gave him a disgusted look after his water goblet hit the table and roughly splashed him in the face. He wiped at his wet face with a sneer and Harry knew he was dreaming up a thousand ways to murder him right then and there. The ceremony began with a showcase of the island’s most talented musicians and dancers. Then a troupe came out and performed magic tricks for the audience. Harry had become so used to magic by now he had nearly forgotten that Muggles used it for entertainment purposes. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had always forbidden him and Dudley to even use the “M” word. They certainly would never allow them to watch any sort of magic show. But they didn’t know that their school had a magician come one day and perform for the students. Dudley had certainly never told them, and neither had he. It was one of the few times he and Dudley had ever agreed on anything as children. The tricks that the magician had performed seemed amazing then, but they were nothing compared to what Harry knew to be real magic. This magic show, however, was entirely different. It seemed to be more of a competition between two people to see who could perform the best bit of transfiguration. Harry watched as the two Mixtecs transfigured all sorts of objects to chase, try to eat, and to fight each other. The competition finally ended when one opponent’s jaguar ate the other opponent’s monkey. It reminded Harry of the stories he’d heard of Merlin fighting the sorceress Morgana in a magical duel that had ended up with Merlin as the winner. Another round of performances showcased some talented acrobats and finally, some children came in front of the table and sang Harry a song that was so beautiful he felt himself choke up. He gave them each an individual smile and thanked them, making the children laugh and scurry away to their parents, who seemed very pleased. Harry couldn’t help but feel Tlaloc’s suppressed anger after the incident and a small part of him was pleased with himself for getting under the man’s skin. After that, Tecuhtl called them forward and summoned the rules. The regulations were simple: 1. Both players were obligated to compete. If, for any reason one did not compete, that player would automatically be declared the loser and the winner would decide the loser’s fate. The default winner would also be granted all the privileges that came with the winning status. 2. Don’t let the ball touch the ground; the player who lets the ball drop loses a point to the opponent. Referees had the authority of making the final call on who gets the point. 3. Players could not let the ball touch their hands; otherwise, they forfeited a point and the opposing player got a shot at one of the goals using their hands only — no magic! 4. Any and all hexes and curses were allowed including transfiguration, but players could not bring anything but their bodies into the arena. If a player died or was caught cheating during the match, the opponent automatically won. 5. If a player managed to get the ball into one of two hoops on the playing field, that player automatically won the game and all play would cease immediately. Additional hexes or curses would result in punishment for the offender. 6. The first person to score 100 points won the game. 7. The winner would decide the fate of the loser. 8. If play had been fair and honourable, the winner would be granted a reward of his choice for his victory. Harry and Tlaloc both indicated that they understand and would abide by the rules of the game. Harry, in a show of good sportsmanship, then turned to Tlaloc and extended his hand. “Good luck tomorrow,” he said, holding Tlaloc’s eyes. Tlaloc shoved Harry’s hand away. “It is not I who will need the favour of the Gods!” he said arrogantly before he stalked away. Hunter came up behind Harry as he watched the islander leave. He patted Harry on the shoulder in what was meant to be a reassuring way, but Harry stiffened reflexively. He still wasn’t used to being touched in that way, and it surprised him. “That was a good thing you did, Harry,” Hunter said. “Tlaloc may not see it, but many others were impressed by your humble attitude.” “I wasn’t trying to be humble,” Harry growled angrily, still put off by Tlaloc’s refusal to see him as anything other than a threat. “I just wanted him to know that I’m not out to get him — I’m not trying to steal his girl away from him.” “I’m sure he’ll see that in time. Mixtecs are proud people, Harry. To many of them, especially the warriors of the island, you have to prove yourself worthy before you can ever hope to gain their respect.” He tugged at Harry’s sleeve. “Come on… let’s go home. You need a good night’s rest. Tomorrow you’ll go to a sacred place to meditate and prepare yourself for the demands of the competition. It’s tradition.” Harry looked at him curiously. “You never mentioned this before.” “I forgot,” he said, shrugging. “Tecuhtl just reminded me.” “Oh,” Harry answered, his mind turning everything over as they walked back to the villa. They could have easily Apparated, but the villa wasn’t far and it gave them both time to unwind. Something just didn’t sit right with Harry. It was like a feeling of deep unease — like something was about to happen… a dark shadow drawing closer and closer with every breath. He looked over at Hunter, but he didn’t seem to be troubled by anything. It didn’t take long for them to reach the courtyard and say their goodnights. “Sleep well, Harry,” Hunter said, his hand on the door handle of his library. “Aren’t you going to bed?” Harry asked, stifling a yawn. “I will soon,” Hunter told him. “I just have a few things to do before I retire for the night. You’ll be all right, won’t you?” he asked, a worried look on his face. “You seem to be awful quiet all of a sudden.” Harry shivered slightly in the dark. He cast his eyes to the temple that could just be seen from the opening in the villa’s garden. The feeling — whatever it was — was still looming over him. Deciding not to bother Stephen with it till he knew for sure what it was, exactly, he shrugged. “I’m just tired, I suppose.” “Are you sure it’s not nerves?” Hunter asked him, his frown intensifying. Harry felt Stephen’s now familiar attempts to probe his mind. He grinned, “It’s not going to work, old man,” he told him with a snicker. “I can feel that, you know!” He turned towards his own door but stopped to call out, “A good night’s sleep is all I need. Don’t worry about me so much, Hunter. I know what I have to do.” Hunter grinned back, satisfied that Harry was telling the truth. It had been a long night. Certainly the boy was feeling the strain. “I’ll call Chuen and ask her to send something in to you to help you sleep,” he called out. “That would be good,” Harry said agreeably, disappearing into his room. That was the last Stephen Hunter would see of him; when he went to wake him up the next morning Harry had disappeared without a trace. *** The first thing he recognised was the sound of the jungle all around him, and the magic; it seemed to encompass him and it was everywhere — in every tree, plant, and animal of the tropical forest where he lay. Then his head spun, his stomach roiled, and he turned over on his side and retched painfully. ‘What happened?’ he thought, struggling to stay focused, fighting the familiar fear and panic that he hated. ‘Where am I? The last thing I remember is saying goodnight to Stephen and then… what?’ Harry racked his brain for more information but came up blank. He had some vague recollection of drinking something. Yes… Chuen had left him something. Hadn’t she? He wished his head would quit spinning so he could think. It was an entirely different feeling than he had ever had before in his life. It was like drinking too many Butterbeer Extras and feeling the effects the next morning. The taste in his mouth was horrid and he’d do just about anything for a drink of water right now. He reached up to his face and realised immediately why things looked so fuzzy and out of focus. His glasses were gone. ‘Just wonderful. I’m in the middle of nowhere, half blind, and,’ he felt around in his pockets, ‘no wand. Excellent!’ If his situation at the moment weren’t so dire, he’d have laughed. Looking down, he was grateful to see he still had on his magical bands. Whoever had done this to him obviously had not been successful in removing them. At least he had that, although it would do him no good with Apparation. Stephen had only taught him how to do it with a wand. He had never even seen it done without a wand, and had no idea how to even go about performing such a dangerous and complicated spell just using the wristbands. Besides, even with a wand, in his condition he didn’t even know if he’d make it back to the villa without splinching himself. ‘Now what?’ he asked himself, as he tried to make out his surroundings. He had no idea which way to even go and he couldn’t see shite. What would Stephen tell him to do? Closing his eyes, he tried to forget about his poor eyesight, his situation… even his still roiling stomach. Using his training and the effects from the deprivation spell, he reached out his mind and his magic, connecting with the magic that was all around him. The result was instantaneous. For Harry, it was like plugging into a natural power source and he found he didn’t need his eyes to work perfectly after all. As long as he could see the magic, he knew where to go and what to do. Feeling around on the ground, he found a twig from a nearby tree. It was straight and smooth — and just about the same size as his wand. Holding his hand flat, he sat the wand on his palm and, thinking of the village, said clearly, “Point Me!” Obeying his command, the stick turned on his hand and pointed Harry in the direction he needed to go. With a smile of satisfaction, he started walking. *** Stephen had not been this scared in a long time. He had woken up to what looked to be a promising morning only to have everything go downhill fast. When Harry did not show up to breakfast like he usually did, he had assumed at first that he was having a lie-in. Fearing he would not have time to eat before they were due at the temple for the meditation ceremony, he had gone to Harry’s room but he had not answered the door, even after insistent knocking. Becoming concerned, Hunter magicked the door open and found it deserted. At first he had thought Harry had stepped out for some private time or to go for a quick run on the beach. He did that often these days, ever since he got serious about his training. Stephen was just about to go look for him when he noticed something strange… a cup shattered on the floor near the small table. Curiously, he walked over and bent down to examine it when his eyes fell on something even more ominous — Harry’s glasses. Another search around the room produced Harry’s wand. Now he knew something was wrong. Harry never went anywhere without his glasses; he couldn’t see two feet in front of him without them on. And even though he didn’t need the wand anymore, he still carried it with him wherever he went. The old, familiar Auror instincts kicked in then, and Hunter drew his wand and performed a spell he had learned a long time ago but not had an occasion to use in years. It was a standard crime scene spell that helped magical law enforcement officials track down what spells had been used in the vicinity of any particular place within the last twenty-four hours. In some cases, magical signatures of the caster could even be traced. This spell, however, yielded no useful information. There was nothing out of the ordinary in Harry’s room. Swearing, Hunter performed another spell. This one checked for traces of magical substances such as potions, and it did come up with something. The shattered cup on the floor was laced with pulque, a natural but powerful substance used in ceremonies to induce visions. If the drinker was not used to ingesting the substance, it could easily act as a sedative. Waving his hand over the cup to repair it, he yelled loudly for Chuen. “Yes, Sir?” she said pleasantly when she appeared in the doorway. “You need something from Chuen now?” She looked at him curiously. “Why you in young Sir’s room?” “Did you make this for him last night?” Hunter asked hurriedly, holding up the now repaired cup and ignoring her question. She came closer and stared at the cup in surprise. “Where you get that?” she asked. “That not belong here.” Hunter studied her face for any sign of trickery or deception, but found none. “What do you mean it doesn’t belong here?” he asked. “It- I… not know it,” she answered, stumbling over the foreign words. Growing frustrated, he switched to Nahuatl. “This is very important, Chuen,” he said in her native tongue. “Harry’s life may depend on it. Are you sure you’ve never seen this cup before?” “No, Xolotl,” she answered back in Nahuatl. “I have never seen this cup before in my life. It is not part of the kitchen here and it is an unfamiliar pattern to me. What is this about?” Hunter swore again violently and slammed the cup down on the table. “He’s gone, Chuen. I came to wake him up this morning for the Meditation Ceremony and he’s vanished.” Hunter thrust Harry’s glasses and wand forward. “I found these, along with that cup shattered on the floor. It contained pulque residue.” “He has not been exposed to pulque before, Xolotl,” she said, her eyes wide. “We of the island give this to our children beginning at a young age to prepare them for the ceremonies they will one day participate in. Even a small amount would have serious consequences for the boy, since he is not used to it. Who would have done this?” “I have my suspicions,” Hunter said grimly. “His bed has not bed slept in, either, from the looks of it. He could be anywhere by now!” “Should we go look for him?” Chuen asked, wringing her hands. “You stay here in case he comes back,” he told her, moving towards the door. “I’ll go to Tecuhtl and tell him what’s happened. We may need to question Tlaloc about this. Let me know if Harry returns, or if you find anything else unusual. I’ll be at the temple.” “Yes, Sir,” he heard her call after him. Practically running out into the courtyard, his eyes fixed on the temple, he pulled his wand and Apparated. *** Harry was not making much headway in the thick jungle. Handicapped by his poor eyesight and less than adequate shoes for the terrain, his makeshift compass seemed to be pointing him in the most thick and overgrown patches of undergrowth. He had run up against all kinds of strange and unfamiliar creatures, and some dangerous looking plants. He was very glad now for his Herbology lessons; without the tutelage of Professor Sprout, he wouldn’t have known to walk around the patch of wild Mandrakes and may have gotten himself tangled up in some venomous tentacula to boot. As it was, he had come into contact with some sneezewort and had nearly forgotten that he was lost. Luckily, the effects wore off quickly before he had wandered too far. When he finally broke through the dense jungle and came across a clearing he was relieved but frustrated to see the sun was beginning to dip into the horizon. That meant he didn’t have much time till the match. It wasn’t a huge jump to assume that Tlaloc or one of his supporters had done this to him. Harry was extremely grateful he wasn’t dead. They could have easily killed him when he was unconscious. At that thought his brain went into overdrive. What if he had been dead and Ginny’s bond had been fulfilled? He hadn’t felt her all afternoon — what if she was… He couldn’t bear to think it. Almost afraid of what he might find, he let down his Occlumency wall and searched his feelings for her. Overwhelming relief washed over him as he felt her, and he knew she had felt him there, too. He could almost feel her heart race at his probe, and then the love she harboured for him washed through his soul, giving him hope. For a moment, he revelled in the connection, remembering the pure white strand that connected the two of them. But after a few minutes, he knew he had to close it off. Standing here soaking in the essence of Ginny Weasley was not getting him home. Sighing, he put the shield back up and trudged on through the jungle — hot, weary, and hungry but with renewed purpose because he knew he had something to go home to when this was all over. *** Tecuhtl had not been at the temple when Hunter arrived. When he did find the chief he was at the palace and, after hearing the situation Hunter found him less than helpful. In fact, he was not concerned for Harry’s welfare at all and even seemed rather complacent about the whole thing. The great chief of the island decreed that if Harry was who he “claimed” to be, then nothing would stand in his way. This was just another test to prove he was worthy. If the boy did not come back, then he was obviously not their Quetzalcoatl and an impostor. End of story. When Hunter had suggested they confront Tlaloc, the chief had been even less helpful. Tlaloc had already gone to his place of mediation and the laws demanded that he not be disturbed. Hunter could question him after the ballgame, if he chose to do so. This behaviour was contradictory to everything Tecuhtl had done so far. It was almost as if he had decided to switch sides in the ninth hour and no longer believed that Harry was “the one.” In a fit of rage, Hunter had stalked out of the palace. This time the great doors were blown to bits as he vented his frustration, and he didn’t even give them a second glance. He had more important things to worry about. If he didn’t find Harry, he’d have some very angry and powerful wizards after him… plus, he’d grown attached to the boy. And James would probably come back from the dead and haunt him to the grave. ‘Now what?’ he asked himself miserably. A tiny voice in his head said, ‘Go find him.’ Listening to his instinct, he headed for the jungle. If someone wanted to get rid of the boy without killing him outright, then they would most certainly have headed for the jungle. He only hoped he was not too late… *** Judging from the waning light, Harry assumed he had been walking for several hours now. The mosquitoes were beginning to swarm around him and the sweat was rolling off his forehead in rivers. His robes — the same ones he had worn last night to the ceremony — were torn and dirty, and he knew without even looking that he was a mess. But the worst of it was his feet. Thankfully, he was still wearing his sandals, but the heavy jungle overgrowth had torn up his feet nonetheless. They were bloodied from various prickly plants and swollen from walking. Every so often he was forced to stop and perform a scouring charm on them to clear the blood, hopefully preventing infection. It was dusk now, and the jungle was getting darker by the moment. He knew that he didn’t have much time before the start of the game, and he wasn’t entirely sure of the consequences if he didn’t make it. The rules had stated that if he didn’t show Tlaloc would win and get to decide Harry’s fate. Knowing Tlaloc and the grudge he had against him that could mean anything. Having been drugged and dumped in the jungle might or might not be construed as cheating, but Harry didn’t hold much faith that he could use that as an argument. The natives held funny beliefs and he could see this turn of events working against him. Perhaps that was the point of all this. Certainly if they had wanted him dead, they could have accomplished that easily enough. No… it was more likely this was done to keep him from the ballgame. But that didn’t really make sense either, Harry mused as he walked. Tlaloc had been playing this game for years and Harry only for a few weeks. It seemed insane that the man could actually think he was worthy enough of an opponent to risk getting caught cheating in order to ensure that he win the game. Harry knew the stakes were high and that Tlaloc had a vested interest in doing this to him, but he found it hard to believe that he even could beat Tlaloc. Sure he had been holding his own against Chac, but he had never allowed himself to think he even had a chance of beating the older, more experienced wizard. “What are you doing here, my prince?” a hissing voice said from just above his left ear. Harry didn’t need to look up into the trees to know that it was Macoa. His heart leaped into his chest. He wasn’t alone anymore! “Macoa!” he exclaimed excitedly. “I’m so glad to see you! What are you doing here?” “I am where I am supposed to be. But you did not answer my question, Harry Potter… Why are you here when you should be somewhere else?” Harry almost laughed aloud at her familiar humour. “I’m not sure,” he said, sinking down to rest against the tree. Macoa slithered down and wrapped herself around his neck, making him feel warm inside at her touch. “I was ambushed last night and when I woke up this morning I was here. I’ve been walking all day trying to find a way out,” he told her. “It is a good thing we crossed paths, then,” Macoa said playfully, “because you are headed the wrong way.” Surprised, Harry retrieved the stick he had found and performed the spell again. In an instant he knew she was right; he had forgotten to check because he was so lost in thought about who could have done this to him. “I would have figured that out on my own, eventually,” he grumbled. “I am sure you would have,” Macoa told him soothingly. “In fact, you are not far from the village now… just in the opposite direction.” Harry brightened. “I am?” he said, jumping to his feet, carefully balancing the snake on his neck. “Then maybe we can still make it!” He turned in the proper direction but was stopped abruptly by Macoa. “Put me down, Harry,” she said insistently. “I can not leave now.” Harry stopped abruptly. “What do you mean you can’t leave?” he asked. “Why not?” Macoa slid off his arm and started back up the tree. “Come and find out,” she said mysteriously. Harry looked at the high tree with trepidation. “I don’t think I can,” he said. “It’s too high and I don’t have my broom.” Dropping down so that she was eye level with him, she looked him squarely in the eyes. “That is your biggest obstacle, is it not?” “What?” Harry asked, confused. “The fact that I’m stuck in the jungle without my broom?” “No… The truth is, young one, you think you cannot do it, so you do not. You must know you can, and then do.” Harry mulled this over as she turned and continued up the tree. What did she mean by this? He looked at her retreating form, his mind blank except for one thought: what it would be like to be Macoa, slithering freely up the tree? If only he was a snake… He placed a hand on the trunk and suddenly something strange and totally unexpected happened. It was as if his body melted and reformed… changed, and before he realised it he was slithering up the tree. It had happened so fast, he didn’t have time to process what he had just done before he was there next to Macoa, peering down into a small nest nestled between two thick branches. Inside the nest was an egg — one solitary, iridescent, magical egg. Harry gasped. “Is it yours?” he asked Macoa. Macoa turned to him. “Yes, it is. It is my gift to you.” “W-what do you mean?” he stammered. Too much had happened and his feeble mind couldn’t process it all. “It will not hatch for some time I am afraid, but it will be a companion for your lady and will protect her when you or I are not able to be with her.” Harry stared at Macoa in awe. “You did this for Ginny?” “And for you,” Macoa confirmed. “When I saw the bond between the two of you, I knew that she was special. She is your soul mate and she is also a kindred spirit to me, is she not? She can speak our language, and that makes her unusual. I was sent to protect you, Prince, and in this way I am helping you by providing a means to protect your heart. Ginny is your heart. I am giving her and you the most precious gift I know to give… I am giving the two of you my heart.” She looked back at the shimmering egg with a mother’s pride. Harry felt his throat constrict and he knew if he were in human form he might have felt tears swell in his eyes. “I-I don’t know what to say,” he managed. “Thank you.” Macoa seemed to smile — or as close to smiling as a snake could get, he supposed. “You are welcome, my prince,” she said graciously. “Now it is time for you to get back. The hour of darkness is almost here and if you do not find yourself where you need to be, all could be lost.” “But how am I supposed to get there?” Harry asked. “How did you get here?” Macoa countered. “I walked…” “But you have no legs,” Macoa said. “You did not walk up the tree.” Comprehension dawned on Harry like a lightning bolt. “I wanted something, and I allowed myself to have it.” He felt himself grow excited at the thought, drunk with the possibilities. “Is it really that simple, Macoa?” he asked. “There is only one way to find out,” she answered. “What do you want, Harry?” “I want to… to fly,” he answered hesitantly. “Then think about what you want and allow yourself to be.” Harry focused his mind on becoming a bird. He knew what kind of bird he’d be for the occasion… a quetzal, just like Hunter had called him. It seemed fitting somehow. Remembering the nuances of the small creature, he focused his mind on wanting to be a quetzal bird and then allowed himself to have it. In an instant he was beating his wings and soaring through the air like he had been doing it his whole life. Harry had never wondered what it would be like to be an Animagus, but in his wildest dreams he could never have imagined that he would be able to take two forms — a snake and a bird. If Macoa was right, then the possibilities were endless. He could be anything he wanted! With renewed vigour, he flew towards the now visible lights of the village and the dark outline of the temple where he knew people were waiting for him. He had a game to play and by everything that was magical, nothing was going to stand in his way! *** Stephen had been unsuccessful in finding Harry, even though he had looked all day. It was as if the boy had vanished into thin air. Every tracking spell he knew to perform turned up nothing, and he was growing more and more certain that whoever had done this was a powerful sorcerer. Only someone with a great deal of power and magical knowledge could have hidden him so well. He was back now waiting at the ball field with the rest of the island, hoping to question Tlaloc as soon as it was declared Harry was a no-show. He wasn’t sure what the consequences of that would be, but he had a back-up plan just in case Harry did show up after the verdict. He had secretly made a Portkey that would Apparate them both to the nearest habituated island. From there he’d make arrangements to get them to South America and eventually home to England. The beginning ceremony was about to start. Stephen surveyed the crowd anxiously. How would they react when Harry didn’t show up? He fingered the wands in his pocket — his and Harry’s — and hoped that he would have the chance to give it back to him. If he didn’t find the boy soon he knew he’d have Dumbledore and a number of other people set to murder him. He hadn’t told Harry about his meeting with the people who brought him. There had been four people, Remus Lupin and three others who met him at the destination point with an unconscious Harry… One month earlier: Stephen Hunter Apparated to the coordinates he had specified to the members of the new Order of the Phoenix, but he still had his doubts about this endeavour. He had a lingering, nagging feeling he shouldn’t be involved in this and usually he listened to his instincts. When he had left England, he swore he’d never get mixed up in anything having to do with Dumbledore again. The old man had made his choices and people had died. His wife and son… Lily and James. He’d told himself years ago that he would never put himself in this position again. But here he was doing just that and he hated it with every fibre of his being. Since receiving the letter, Stephen had been in a right terrible mood. He was sure that even Chuen was glad to see him go because he had been snapping at everyone when he wasn’t secluding himself and scheming on how he could get out of this commitment. But it all came back to one thing… he owed this to James. From what Dumbledore’s letters had said, Harry was now unconscious. They’d had some trouble earlier and were forced to sedate the boy, making Hunter even more leery about this situation. He wasn’t sure what the details were, but he’d make damned sure the boy wasn’t dangerous before he agreed to take him out of here. Hunter paced as he waited. Waiting always made him irritable, especially when he was already on edge. The team who was meeting him was late. The noise of the group arriving by Portkey made him jump. “Could you have been any more obvious?” he growled to the haggard-looking group as they stumbled to their feet. “Whose bright idea was it to take a Portkey?” The oldest of the group, a red-haired chap with a round, pleasant face held out his hand in greeting. “Stephen Hunter, I presume?” Stephen shook the man’s hand but let go rather fast. He wanted to get this over and done with and he didn’t have time for pleasantries. “Yes,” he answered more sharply than he had intended. “I’m Arthur Weasley.” Stephen ignored him. Looking over at the group, he noticed them supporting a teenage boy with black hair and glasses. He was clearly still unconscious. Trying not to stare, Hunter couldn’t keep his eyes from landing on the famous lightning bolt scar on his forehead. So this was Harry. Even in the state the lad was in, Stephen couldn’t help but see the similarities between the boy and his old friend, James Potter. Hunter felt some of the ice surrounding his heart chip away, but he tried not to notice. “Is that him?” he asked coldly, even though he knew very well it was. Hunter didn’t miss the looks of apprehension that passes between the group. A man stepped forward with his hand outstretched. “Mr. Hunter,” he said cordially. “We’ve met before, although it’s been a long time. Remus Lupin.” Hunter regarded the man with recognition. The werewolf… James’ best friend and a member of the group they had dubbed the Marauders. “I remember,” Hunter said more warmly. “How have you been, Remus?” “Fine, thank you,” Remus answered. “Although recent events have been… difficult,” he said, glancing at Harry. “He looks a mess,” Hunter agreed. “How long has he been out?” “Almost five days,” Remus said regretfully. It was clear he cared a great deal for the boy. Hunter nodded. “Any problems?” The group exchanged another funny look. The girl with the spiky blue hair spoke up. They had laid the boy down on the floor and she was watching over him protectively. “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named tried to possess him again, but Harry fought him off.” Hunter heard the unmistakable sound of pride in her voice. “Unfortunately,” she continued, “we had to stun him because he tried to run away from us. We’ve been keeping him sedated for his own safety.” “Interesting,” Hunter said dispassionately. He knew all that from Dumbledore’s letter. Turning back to Remus he asked, “When do you want him back?” “School starts the first of September,” Remus answered mildly. “Will that be enough time?” “I’ll make it be enough time,” Hunter heard himself say. Even he couldn’t believe how cold he sounded. “Tell the old man this is the last favour I’ll do for him. I don’t appreciate having my life disrupted based on his whim.” The younger man with red hair stepped forward, his face pink with anger. “Harry’s life is more important than you’ll ever know! If you don’t want to do this, then just say the word and we’ll take him home with us. Frankly, I don’t feel comfortable leaving him here with the likes of you, anyway.” “Now Bill, I’m sure Mr. Hunter didn’t mean that like it sounded,” the older red-head said appeasingly, but he looked like even he had his doubts. “I didn’t say I won’t take him,” Stephen clarified. “But I do have my doubts about getting mixed up with Dumbledore’s problems again.” Bill stood face to face with him now. “Harry is like my brother,” he said in a low, threatening voice, “and my family means the world to me. He’s been through a lot, and I won’t have him treated poorly just because you hold a grudge.” “Who says I hold I grudge?” Hunter said unflinchingly. “Everyone,” Bill said angrily. “I did some checking up and I found out some things about you, Mr. Hunter. You don’t exactly have a clean past, do you?” The accusing look the boy was giving him was making Hunter furious, but he held it back for now. “My past is none of your business,” he said evenly. “When it involves Harry, I make it my business,” Bill said stubbornly. “Now, son…” the older man said calmly. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. Albus thinks this man can help Harry, and frankly, I’m going to have to trust him on this one.” Hunter turned his cold blue eyes on Mr. Weasley. “Trusting Albus Dumbledore may get you killed one day.” He was satisfied to see the man look visibly shaken. The tension in the room was so thick, Hunter’s words hung in the air. Everyone was at a loss for what to say, but a sudden cry from the girl made the men forget all about their difference. “What’s wrong, Tonks?” he heard Lupin ask. “His heart rate is very low and dropping. He’s starting to crash again,” she said, holding her wand over the boy and waving it frantically. Hunter pushed them aside to examine the boy more closely. “What are you giving him?” he asked roughly. “Just a mild sedative,” Arthur Weasley answered. “Nothing else.” Hunter drew out his own wand and performed a series of diagnostic spells. “This boy has been given a mind-enhancing potion within the last two weeks,” he said accusingly. “Who can tell me about that?” They all looked at each other blankly. Finally Remus Lupin spoke up. “No one told us anything about any other potions,” he said softly. “But it does make sense…” “Of course it makes sense!” Hunter exclaimed. “Low heart rate, shallow breathing… what else could explain the traces of belladonna, fluxweed, and asphodel root in his system? This boy is dying due to your sloppy care! You’re poisoning him. Any fool should know not to mix sedatives and mind enhancing potions! You people have thrown him into a coma, and you didn’t even notice!” The group exchanged another significant look. Tonks spoke up. “Wouldn’t Madame Pomfrey have checked?” she asked timidly. “Poppy Pomfrey is a school nurse used to treating students,” Hunter snapped. “Unless someone suspected something, she would have no cause to check, and even if she did she probably wouldn’t have known the significance. But Dumbledore would have, if he had bothered to think of it. But no doubt he was busy,” he added sarcastically. He watched in satisfaction as they all exchanged worried, guilty looks. “Can you help him?” Mr. Weasley asked anxiously. “It’s not too late, is it?” Giving the boy one last appraisal, Hunter nodded. “It’ll be touch and go for awhile until I can rid his body of the poison, but with proper care he should pull through.” He gathered Harry in his arms, noticing how light he was and wondering if they were starving him, too. Despite his best intensions, he felt another chip of ice fall from his heart and wondered what it meant. Certainly there was no way he would ever be attached to this scrawny young man. “So that’s it, then?” the younger man said disbelievingly. “How will we know he’s alright?” “No news is good news,” Hunter told him. “If he dies, I’ll be sure to let you know.” And with those parting words, he Disapparated on the spot, an unconscious Harry Potter held firmly in his arms. But even as they whirled towards home Hunter knew he was fooling himself. The boy had already made an impression on him and he knew he’d move heaven and earth to see that he pulled through this. He owed it to James and Adam. If the prophecy was right, then this boy was their only hope of defeating Voldemort and he wouldn’t let his son’s death be for nothing. He’d make sure Harry lived just so he could see Riddle pay once and for all. *** The entrance of Tlaloc into the arena threw Hunter out of his memories. He felt so many emotions at the moment he didn’t know which one to pay attention to first. Anger, guilt, worry, frustration… they all mixed together and he balled his fists tightly to keep himself under control. The drums had stopped beating and Tecuhtl was addressing the crowd, informing him of Tlaloc’s win by default when something strange happened. From out of nowhere, a small green Quetzal bird flew down and landed on Tlaloc’s head. For a moment it seemed as if Tlaloc was so surprised he didn’t know when to do, but then he reached up and tried to swat it off his head. The creature seemed to expect this and flew out of the way, finally fluttering down to the ground and suddenly it was gone and in its place stood a very bedraggled-looking but very much alive Harry Potter. The crowd roared with approval; everyone had been waiting for this game for weeks and no one wanted to see Tlaloc win the competition by default. And Harry’s entrance into the arena was certainly a crowd pleaser. They whooped and yelled, clicking their tongues in approval. Hunter knew his own face was split in a permanent grin. He’d have to talk to the boy later about how he had learned to transform, but for now he was just grateful the boy was alive and looking none the worse for wear. The only ones in the arena who didn’t look pleased were Tlaloc, Masaya, and, surprisingly, Chief Tecuhtl. The chief rose to his feet and held up his hand to stop the noise of the crowd. “Harry Potter,” he began in a flat voice, “you are on the verge of being disqualified. What do you have to say to defend yourself?” Harry stepped forward obediently. “If you please, sir, I can explain.” Tecuhtl nodded and Harry spoke, telling the arena of his kidnapping and trek through the jungle. The crowd seemed to be horrified at his tale but Hunter’s reaction was different; it was something akin to pride. When he was finished, Tecuhtl addressed the competitors. “Are you prepared to live by the terms of the binding contract and compete in this competition, or do either of you wish to concede?” Tlaloc answered first. “I am prepared.” Harry also stepped forward, his chin jutted out defiantly. For a moment it was as if Hunter was seeing the boy for the first time. Only this time he wasn’t unconscious, sickly, nervous or troubled. This Harry could only be described as angry and defiant, strong and confident… determined and powerful. Hunter shivered because he knew, somehow, that this was the Harry that was powerful enough to defeat a Dark Lord hundreds of miles away and to wipe the floor with a pompous warrior who was standing in his way from going home. At the moment Hunter actually pitied Tlaloc. “I am prepared,” he heard Harry say in a low, deep voice. A man’s voice. Tecuhtl raised his arms and said in a booming voice, “Then let the game begin!” [A/N: There are many deeper meanings to many of the elements of this story and each component was chosen specifically for a purpose (for example, Tecuhtl literally means chief… Xolotl is the twin brother of Quetzalcoatl in some Aztec mythology stories… ), so when you are reading, just know that I have done a lot of research and tried to make this story as meaningful as possible. I also have a lot of background information, specifically about Hunter. There’s more to him than just Harry’s mentor and I’m hoping to develop him even further as this series progresses. Thanks to Arnel for her beta services, and a special thank you to Melindaleo and mbwun5 for their advice, encouragement, and wonderful brainstorming! They gave me some great ideas for the ballgame scene, which is helping me get it to you sooner. I appreciate all the time they have taken out of their lives to help me with this chapter.] |
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