Brave New World

Chapter Eighteen



Autumn Equinox Dark Sacrifice Discovered



It was a grisly scene discovered by Aurors Wednesday evening after an anonymous owl was sent to the Ministry’s Department of Law Enforcement. The small village of Maleshire, located in West Country was reduced to ash and death in what appeared to be a heinous mockery of an Autumn Equinox ritual.



Traditionally this Equinox is a time of balance, and the occasion to celebrate the stability of the hearth and home. What occurred in Maleshire was anything but a joyous commemoration.



Maleshire was a small rural community, home to many muggle-born witches and wizards, squibs and muggles who were aware of the Wizarding world. It was one of few communities of our society where the magical and mundane lived in accord.



“It was horrific,” one Auror who chose to remain nameless was able to report. “At the center of the town, someone built a stone alter and surrounded it with a circle formed with bones. Every child under the age of eleven was within it. The babies even. Slaughtered all of them. Their blood soaked the ground like water after a rainstorm. I’ve never seen anything so vile in all my life.”



What has Aurors stumped are the one hundred and twenty inhabitants of Maleshire who are still unaccounted for. No remains of any person over the age of twelve, male or female, magical or muggle, could be found amongst the ruins of this desecrated village bar one.



This reporter was informed through a reliable but confidential source that a pregnant muggle-born witch, later identified as Martha Entwhistle, was killed on the altar. Her throat and wrists cut open by a ceremonial dagger left on the scene. The child she carried was torn from her womb via a macabre caesarean section but it’s remains have not been recovered. Near her were the remnants of rotten fruits and vegetables, wilted bloodroot and black hellebore as well as sprigs of yew. Also found were the residue of the heart and powdered horn of a Romanian Longhorn dragon as well as the shells of a runespoor eggs.



The perpetrators of this massacre haven’t been identified though it is believed to be the work of You-Know-Who. However it should be noted the revealing signature of known Death Eaters wasn’t seen over the village.



No one knows the purpose of this grizzly mass murder but it proves that darkness is on the rise in the Wizarding World.



--Rohan Smythe, reporter



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For perhaps the first time ever, the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was still. Students at each table who held a copy of the Thursday morning edition of the Daily Prophet sat in utter horror as their eyes raced first over the bold headline and then the revealing article that followed. Those who were able leaned over shoulders hoping to see what could cause such a reaction in their classmates only to meet the same terrified conclusion.



“Students, may I have your attention please.”



The Headmaster stood at the head table with his own copy of the sensational newspaper gripped tightly in his fist. His normally cheerful expression and twinkling blue eyes were grim with a despair that no one had ever seen on the wizened man’s face before.



“In light of today’s edition of the Daily Prophet, I am suspending classes for the rest of the week.” It was a sign of the other students’ shock that the announcement went without reaction or comment.



“For any student who wishes council, please seek your Head of House who will be available to answer any questions you may have. These tragic events serve to remind us, how precious life is and it should be cherished. Prefects please escort the students back to the dorms. Meals will be served in respective common rooms for the day.”



After the Headmaster concluded his speech and moved to depart, furious whispers began to spread from one end of the hall to the other, still pointing at the article. The shocking accompanying picture depicted the burned out ruins of the buildings of Maleshire, proving how much time had already passed before the murders were discovered.



“Are you alright Tracey?”



The color had drained from his friend’s face who sat utterly still, as she stared down at the publication that lay on top of her uneaten meal. She held her arms stiffly at her sides, as if she didn’t dare touch the offensive paper again.



“My father,” she whispered, barely loud enough so that he and Daphne could hear. “This is what the Dark Lord sent my father out collecting ingredients for.”



“You don’t know that for a fact, Tracey,” Daphne tried to comfort the brunette but even Blaise could hear the lie in her words.



“Mother wrote me just yesterday. He still hasn’t returned to the Manor.”



That didn’t sound good at all. If this was the Dark Lord’s opening salvo, he dreaded to think what his next plans were. “I remember her,” he finally spoke up. “Martha Entwhistle. She was a seventh year Ravenclaw during our first year.”



“Look at Professor Flitwick, he’s devastated,” Tracey shook her head, guilt a pensive shimmer in her eyes. They watched as the inconsolable instructor was escorted from the table by Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey. This wasn’t her fault but Blaise knew she couldn’t help but feel responsible if her father really had given the Dark Lord those ingredients to perform this ritual and kill all those people.



He wasn’t the only one upset by the revelation, as several mournful sobs had erupted from the Ravenclaw table. Professors Vector and McGonagall were already moving in that direction to try to calm the situation but the hysteria had already spread over to the Hufflepuffs. Blaise couldn’t imagine what was going through everyone’s mind. He wondered if anyone here at school knew someone who lived in that village. If they were among the children murdered or the missing.



He risked a glance over at the Gryffindor table, at Harry. Everyone talked around him but was very careful not to speak directly to Harry at all. No one was willing to risk meeting the cold rage that stared back from those verdant eyes. It was a seething fury that he didn’t think someone like Harry could ever be capable of feeling. That gaze was filled with a promise of retribution Blaise had never before witnessed.



“I can’t believe how much detail they printed,” Daphne murmured, her hand clenching at Tracey’s tightly. It was the only visible source of comfort the two could offer each other for fear of retaliation within their House. Slytherins were supposed to be collected and remote. They weren’t supposed to care about a village of muggles, muggle-borns and squibs that had been slaughtered like animals.



It was the first time he had ever felt hatred for his house.



“Confidential source my ass,” Tracey spat but was quickly nudged by Daphne before attention could be drawn in their direction. “I wouldn’t be surprised if this source wasn’t there rounding up those children to be sacrificed,” her voice choked off on her rising emotions.



The younger Slytherins looked like they were on the verge of tears but it didn’t escape his notice that many of their fellow upper classmen didn’t seem surprised by this news at all.



Malfoy, though his expression was as bland as the rest of his compatriots, couldn’t conceal the smug gleam of excitement in his icy grey eyes. Blaise had to resist the urge to reach across the table and wring the bastard’s neck for daring to find pleasure in such an abomination.



The senseless slaughter of innocent children was horrible enough but to desecrate a ritual of the old ways was blasphemous. It wasn’t the usual dark magic Wizarding society normally condemned. This was something else entirely. If the Dark Lord dared this, he was nothing short of evil and it proved he and those who followed him were damned.



“What’s going to happen to us, Blaise?” Tracey whimpered. “Why didn’t we feel this during our ritual at Equinox? Why weren’t we strong enough to feel this? There must have been some way we could have stopped this from happening.”



“It doesn’t mean we weren’t strong enough,” Daphne insisted.



“It simply means this was hidden purposefully and whoever cast the concealment spell was stronger than our Coven. We know the Dark Lord is the most powerful dark wizard who ever lived and he has the magic of three Ancient and Noble Houses at his disposal, including one of the oldest of us all.” Blaise reminded her.



“He’s going to destroy the Wizarding world and there is no one able to stop him,” Tracey said in a dull and disquieting voice that sent foreboding shivers down his spine.



Blaise thought back to the thunderous expression on Harry Potter’s face. “I hope you’re wrong about that.”





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The drill was simple.



Harry started at the back wall on one side of the classroom. When Leo fired a curse at him, typically something simple like the disarming charm, he was to block it with a using the shielding charm before he started running toward the other wall as fast as he could. They had been working on this drill for almost a week now and Harry was finally getting comfortable with the newest form of agility training he had privately dubbed Hex Potter’s Bits version three.



Leo had offered to put off today’s training but the last thing he wanted was more hours sitting in the Gryffindor common room listening to his dorm mates ranting about how Slytherin was so unaffected by the murders plastered all over the front page of the Daily Prophet. He saw the hurt and fear on the faces of the younger students. The uneasiness that no mask could ever conceal in the eyes of Blaise, Tracey and Daphne. It was unfair to blame them all for things they had no control over.



Now all he wanted was the pain of training to take him away from the fear in the eyes of everyone around him who were looking to him for answers. Answers he wasn’t ready to give them. After a few hours of physical exertion he would shower and change and join Neville and Hermione in their research into Samhain. He also wanted to know what the hell Voldemort was doing in a small village sacrificing their children in a gruesome ritual and what had happened to everyone else in Maleshire.



Usually during this drill, just before he reached the other wall, another spell would be cast and he was supposed to dodge, roll, come to his feet and run back in the opposite direction. He was only allowed to cast a defensive spell when he was running toward the wall he originated and only after completing the dodge and roll sequence.



This process continued with the strength of spells increasing and the amount of time between casting reduced to mere seconds. At one point he was running only a few steps before ducking a spell rolling across the floor to avoid another, jumping to his feet to cast one of his own before racing away as fast as his tired legs could carry him.



When he was finally forced to the center of the room, he was able to vary his rolls more, going both back and forth as well as side to side. Leo enjoyed putting him through his paces. The man’s spell repertoire was vast and varied from mild jelly legs jinxes to curses so powerful Harry could only hope he dodged them quickly enough. That was usually the time the drill ended and Harry needed to be awakened so he could start all over from the beginning.



“Locomotor mortis,” Harry panted out the leg-locker curse too tired to cast silently and it went wild as Leo easily stepped out of it’s path and Harry was forced to roll back and away from the impressive stunner headed in his direction.



His magic surged wildly, a gust of air whipping around him, catching the impediment curse that Harry hadn’t seen coming at him until it was too late to avoid. Then Leo’s spell was practically thrown toward the wall away from him. The dark skinned man paused, frowning at the sparks of magic giving Harry the opening he needed.



“Serpensortia,” he murmured with and with a flick of wrist managed to conjure five large boa constrictors, non venomous but not snakes to be fucked around with either. ‘Split up, surround him and attack,’ he hissed out in parseltongue, already moving, his steps lighter, faster. The snakes slithered across the room quickly, like the flicks of a cat-o’nine-tails before Leo could spot them.



It felt like the wind was supporting him now, as each step felt less like a trial and his muscles didn’t strain as much. Again he dodged a hex, but a pleased smirk curved his lips at Leo’s sharp yelp of surprise, as he was forced to banish the two snakes so he wouldn’t be attacked.



“Incendio!” The Fire charm was cast with more force than Leo obviously intended, as he had been running on the adrenaline from avoiding the poisonous snakes heading for him. “Harry look out!”



He had every intention of casting a shield, his arm already raised, the motion working through the muscles of his arm when his magic surged again. It burst forth it felt like someone had yanked it up from his gut and out his chest, jerking his body forward in an awkward stumble. Wind caught the flame before it could reach Harry, whipping it around furiously until it formed a small cyclone of fire. He watched the fire dance before him, barely noticing the shadows dancing just at the periphery of his vision. Everything wavered, as he began to feel lightheaded. Then he noticed the sounds, carefree like those only a child could make, almost like giggles.



Whispers, he realized, not noticing how his body swayed dangerously close to the circling flames. There were whispers coming from the fire. If he could just listen a little closer, he would be able to understand what it was saying.



“What,” he slurred tilting his head to the side as darkness crept in over his sight . “What did you say?”



“Son of a bitch,” was all Harry heard before he was hit with a spray of water and the black took him.





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“It’s about time you woke up.”



Septima’s amused voice hovered just at the edge of his consciousness. While he was tempted to ignore it and return to the comforting embrace of the deep pool of darkness he was floating in, Harry knew she would only grow more persistent. He became aware of the hard floor underneath him first, though someone had placed something soft beneath his head.



“Where am I,” his voice was thick and slurred but he must have made himself clear because she answered him.



“Still in class. You might try opening your eyes, else I’ll be forced to get Madam Pomfrey and she’ll want you to spend some time in the infirmary.”



“I’m up,” he blurted, eyes snapping open, only to squeeze shut due to the bright blurred light that tried to permanently blind him.



“Just take it slow, Harry. You expended a great deal of magic, so I’m not surprised you’re exhausted. ” Gentle fingers brushed strands of hair away from his face before something cool was laid across his forehead. “How does that feel?”



“Good,” he murmured, finally feeling up to opening his eyes, he did so gradually this time.



“Just a second,” her blurred form moved and returned a moment later, pressing something onto his face and everything cleared. “There, that should be better.” Her smile was bright and pleased. “Can I get you some water?”



“That would be brilliant actually, since it feels like I swallowed a kneazle.” He was helped up to a sitting position, with his back braced against a wall before she conjured a goblet, filling it using an Aguamenti charm and pressed it carefully into his hand.



“You look tired Harry, and I’m not just talking about from today’s training. You’ve looked that way for days now,” Septima began as he was savoring the cool water soothing his dry throat. “I held off seeing if you would speak to someone about it but I see you haven’t. I asked Leo to keep an eye on you and if something happened to come get me straight away. Are you still having trouble sleeping?”



“No, that’s not it. I just,” he set the goblet aside and closed his eyes bracing his head into his hands. “It’s just been a long week that’s all. Reading that article in the Prophet today didn’t help.”



“Alright, I guess I can accept that.” Septima surprised him, conjuring a large pillow beside him and joining him on the floor.



“Where is Leo anyway?”



“Informing the Headmaster why you haven’t returned to the Gryffindor dorms yet. It’s after dinner hour Harry, I’m sure your friends have been looking for you.”



“I’ve been out that long?”



“Yes, you have. I didn\'t think you wanted anyone to know what happened today. So we decided to keep you here. Now are you ready to talk about it now?” The way she looked at him, told Harry that she already had a pretty good idea of what his problem could be. Her next sentence proved it. “I had the opportunity to speak with your great-uncle before he left the castle.” She smiled at him then, “Judging from your expression, you’ve enjoyed having him here.”



“Yes, he’s different from most of the wizards I’ve met. I mean, there’s Mr. Weasley who has always been kind to me. He has this weird obsession with muggle appliances. Then there is Professor Dumbledore with his bizarre robes and Snape who does a bad impression of a vampire bat. Remus is the closest to normal I’ve ever met but he has his own hang-ups about being a werewolf.”



“Lord Roarke is an original, I agree.”



“Mostly, I guess it’s just that I don’t know what to trust anymore. So much has been hidden from me and supposedly for my own good. Then I meet my uncle and I see everything I could have had as a child and I’m just so bloody angry I could scream.”



Septima was the one person he knew he could rely on to be honest with him. She had voluntarily given him a Wizarding Vow not to betray him. Unless she liked flirting with death, she would hold to it. He wanted to believe in his great-uncle but it was hard for to trust where he had been burnt so many times in the past.



“Did you give him a chance to explain?”



“And it merely brought up more questions. Questions that deep down, I already know the answer to, so why even bother with the confrontation.” He knew what Dumbledore would say and he just didn’t want to face those half-truths and being placated again until the next secret was brought to light for it all to start again.



She placed a hand on his back rubbing in gentle circles spreading the warmth deep into his skin. The comforting gesture was almost his undoing. “Why are you helping me?” As much as he wanted this strange and yet nice friendship with Septima, he needed to know what she was gaining from it.



“When I look at you, I see such a brave young man who carries a terrible burden. How can I do anything less? You fight for the freedom of the Wizarding world. How could I allow you to fight alone when my knowledge could be of some assistance to you? How do I sit aside and watch you grieve and suffer alone and not offer my compassion?”



“The rest of them expect me to fight for them. They never think of picking up their wand and fighting back. Most of them are too frightened to even say Voldemort’s name. Then there are articles like today and I realize those people have reason to be terrified. Voldemort is a monster! But why am I the one to face him?”



“Regrettably, that’s the way of the world, of human nature. Not everyone is courageous enough to stand up and fight for what’s right. Most are too frightened of what it might cost them, whether it’s money or their reputation or even their life. Does that mean freedom isn’t worth fighting for?”



“No! What kind of person would I be if I allowed Voldemort to take over. I have muggle-born friends and even though my relatives are hateful, I know that doesn’t mean all muggles are. But helping me to fight the war doesn’t mean you have to be my friend.”



“Why shouldn’t I be your friend? Is there something about you that prevents you from having friends? Something I should know about you that would make me not want to be your friend?”



“I don’t think so,” he answered slowly, as some might believe having an insane wizard out to conquer the world and destroy anyone who got in his way a pretty good reason to not offer a hand in friendship.



“Should I be overly dazzled by your charm and good looks and famous reputation instead?”



“That’s a trick question, right?”



They both broke into laughter then, well aware of the witches and wizards who didn’t bother looking beyond his status as the boy-who-lived to the person beneath.



“This is how friendship works, Harry. I gave you that Wizarding Vow because we live in dangerous times and you needed to know I could be trusted. It’s up to you the depths our friendship reach.”



“I like talking with you. The only person I could talk to like this was Sirius and even he had his issues. Sometimes his mind would get confused from his years in Azkaban and he behaved like a teenager who hadn’t completed his Hogwarts education or he could confuse me with my father but I know he loved me.”



“I’m certain he did Harry. You’re a boy who is very easy to care about.”



“Remus tries, I know but he has his own grief to deal with and his missions for Dumbledore. I would hate to burden him with my troubles.”



But as he thought on it more, that feeling of isolation wasn’t quite as strong as it used to be. Despite the ever widening gap between him and his friends and the loss of Sirius, he had gained something more this year. First with Septima and Leo who treated him like a little brother, to his growing friendship with Neville, discovering family that he always longed for and even the possibility of Blaise, a relationship he never believed he would have. He was only as alone as he allowed himself to be.



“I think you’re not giving Remus a chance because you’re afraid.”



“He’s the last link I have to my parents.”



“And you don’t want to lose him, so you push him away first.”



“I guess so.” He took a deep breath and tried to relax but the thought of losing Remus too brought on fears he wasn\'t yet ready to confront.



“You can’t live that way, Harry. Yes, we’re fighting a war and people will most certainly die. You don’t want to look back years from now and regret the things you should have done or said to the people you care about. You have to live in spite of you know,” she paused at his dry glare and smiled. She drew a deep breath in and said clearly, “Voldemort.”



“Another convert,” Harry joked, rubbing his hands together and cackling maniacally making her burst into laughter as well.



“It isn’t enough to stop Voldemort,” she began after they had settled down. “In the end what matters is what you’re fighting for. Not just for the Wizarding world. But no one else can tell you what to fight for, you have to discover those things that are dear to your heart on your own.”



“I guess that’s what Dumbledore was trying to do, to manipulate me into caring about the Wizarding world the way he does, so I would be willing to fight for it.”



“Yes well, I have to say, I’m a little disillusioned by the Headmaster’s actions toward you.”



“You’re not alone in that.”



“I am grateful he allowed me the opportunity to get to know you better. You are a great young man, Harry Potter.”



“Thanks,” he fidgeted, the material of the sweat pants he wore, smiling shyly at the compliment. “So what do you think caused my magic to go all wonky.”



“Wonky,” she chuckled, “That’s one way of describing it.”



“You said if I hadn’t found the reason why my magic was acting up, you would tell me.”



“So I did, and what have you discovered?”



“Not much.”



“I don’t think that’s true, Harry.” She paused and then reached over to the satchel sitting on the chair next to them and retrieved a clean piece of parchment and a quill and passed it to him.



“I’m not here merely to teach you about magic or even Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. I’m here to help you begin to think critically. From what I understand and have observed, you do well in situations that force you to use your instincts. Given some of the things you’ve told me about your childhood, I believe you were an excellent critical thinker.”



“That doesn’t. I didn’t," he stopped not understanding what she where she was trying to lead him. "I don’t understand what you mean.”



“I believe the Sorting Hat would call it cunning.”



The Sorting Hat had wanted him in Slytherin. Still did even when he had returned and asked a second time. That had frightened him back then because he had allowed the opinions of others he trusted and the reputation of the House to influence his beliefs. In the end, any traits he had that resembled a Slytherin characteristic had been determinedly buried and he had embraced the Gryffindor attributes wholeheartedly.



There was no reason why he couldn’t be a combination of both. Brave and cunning. Honorable and Ambitious. Instead he allowed Hermione to become the person he went to if he needed knowledge and adopted Ron’s beliefs and prejudices as his own, all because he wanted his best friends to like him.



It was only when he changed the dynamics of their relationship when the troubles started. He wasn’t trying to push them aside but the more he changed, seeking knowledge for himself or made choices that were a contradiction, he was badgered or even ridiculed.



Finding the reason why his magic was changing was his responsibility. This wasn’t research to be passed off to Hermione or avoided by Ron. He sighed, feeling the weight of adulthood heavily on his shoulders not for the first time this school year. This growing up thing was more complicated than he realized.



“What should I do first?”



“First consider all the things that have been happening in your life lately.”



“I’ve been training a lot, even more than the year of the tournament. Then I was just learning spells. Now I’m more physically active, I’m taking nutrient potions, I’m eating better and getting a lot more sleep than I used to. I’ve even been using my magic differently.” Each of these he wrote down with small explanations underneath, so he could go back and study it.



“So how would you say your magic feels when you cast spells you’re already familiar with?”



“Good, I guess. It’s so much easier to cast a blasting curse now than it was when I first learned it but that was Leo’s goal all along right, for my normal spells to be easier to cast. I can even silently cast the ones that don’t require a lot of strength behind them.”



“And new spells?”



“I haven’t learned that many new ones yet. Leo said he would start those in October. I’ve always been ahead in Defense class and Charms . Transfigurations was never easy but I don’t struggle the way I used to.”



“Anything else different?”



“Hmm, I,” he paused in writing to think more carefully. “The old ways,” he murmured. “I’ve been learning about the old ways. Incorporating them into my life, you know, the blessings and the private meditations. From the very first time, I’ve felt more connected with my magic.”



“When you were given those protection runes, I had a feeling your magic would begin to change, to grow, and I was right. You see, from the moment you received that curse scar, your magic has been protecting you. It started as a burst of wild magic, and was forced to remain unbalanced until you first started Hogwarts.”



Harry thought back to all the times he had been injured by Dudley and his cronies bullying, or the days he would sit crammed in his cupboard hungry. The neglect and abuse. His magic had been protecting and healing him all along. How many hours had he labored under a hot summer sun doing chores with no water or food? It was amazing he hadn’t dropped from heat stroke or starvation.



“When you stared Hogwarts you were finally given that focus but then you had to contend with your connection to Voldemort.” His magic had protected his mind from Voldemort for years. Yes, he had nightmares and migraines but it had been manageable. It was only after Voldemort’s resurrection when their connection was strengthened and hours of useless Legilimency lessons with Snape that his mind and magic been weakened enough that Voldemort was able to possess him.



“The runes gave my magic another focus,” he concluded and was rewarded with a bright smile.



“Exactly. Your magic already knows how to protect you, you simply gave it the means it needed to do so properly. This in turn requires a lot less of your magic and Harry I’m sure you’ve realized you have a well of magic that most wizards can’t even fathom.”



That is probably what it meant to be marked as Voldemort’s equal. But was he equal as a child or now? Did that mean he had more magic than Voldemort now? “Does the amount of magic you have increase as you mature?”



“Not really, it’s more like the realization of potential. Take a muscle for instance, if you exercise properly and give your body the proper nutrition, it will get stronger. Do none of those things, it remains stagnant. It the same with any gift you’re given. Whether it’s physical ability or intellect. Even magic. If you nurture it, it will grow strong. If not, it withers and becomes deficient.”



“So what does this mean for my magic, I mean, I saw the way it reacted to that incendio spell Leo cast at me. I’ve been feeling it for a while now, like the wind is just there whispering but I can’t make out the words.”



“In opening yourself to the old ways, you’ve opened yourself to a path of magic that most witches and wizards never have the opportunity to explore. And that’s elemental magic.”



“The elements. Fire, water, earth and air? We perform spells using those all of the time.”



“Yes, but I mean you now have the ability to resonate with the element that has chosen you.”



“So I can’t just learn fire spells and cast them.”



“Of course you can, but it would never be the same as the element that is best suited for your magic. If your element is air, as I suspect from Leo’s description of your display earlier, then you would never wield fire properly. You could never bring forth a fire salamander if you don’t resonate with that element.”



“What in Merlin’s name is a fire salamander?” He choked off a disbelieving burst of laughter.



“A fire spirit, the embodiment of the element of fire.” She shook her head in frustration, “I’m skipping ahead through years of knowledge and training and I know I’m confusing you Harry. Yet I see you and when I learn you’re following the old ways and there is such potential in you, I can’t help but want to push you along the path quickly but I can’t.”



“So how should I begin?”



“You’ve already taken the most important step. You’ve allowed magic to mean more to you than mere spells and potions. Magic is a keystone in your life. I can give you tools but it’s your path Harry. Now you’ll just have to take this journey on your own and discover where it leads you.”