HPNSA - BOOK TWO

CHAPTER THREE
TWO SCHEMES



She stood about four feet tall, and was playing with an orb of gold that she bounced merrily onto a floor of crystal blue waters. Around her were several glittering orbs on glass cases, each one scarlet red, each one passed through merciless hands, their last breath gasped in cruel agony. It gave her sheer delight to see them all collected together on her shelf like trophies of her wicked humor. Today she was holding the latest addition: another golden orb of gold was slowly filling with blood.

A giggle – she watched as the orb convulsed – she had seen this before and it always made her laugh. The orb was now filling up, slowly turning scarlet like the ones she had displayed around her. She skipped again, and bounced the ball onto the waters. Just like the others, she thought. Certainly this had been going on for thousands of years with no sign that it would ever stop. Though there was a prophecy spoken against her, against the very thing she enjoyed the most. She cared not, for it had never entered her fiendish mind that it would ever come to pass – it had been more than six millennia. There had only been two attempts: both failed, and the first resulted in the birth of Aveddon – her most faithful servant.

But cosmic forces seemed now to conspire against her, against the cruelty and malice that had caused such pain and suffering to the children of Aum. They had planned the third one well, brooding on it for many centuries. This was their final attempt and, to their great joy, the participants had agreed to play the game. Now the players had taken their positions on the board, and the game against time and space – against the gods – had finally begun.

Nin heard a trickling sound; right above her, she saw a gigantic hourglass with glittering stars dripping down to the once empty bottom. Her merriment was cut short: she looked around her to see that the scarlet spheres seemed to be illuminated with a golden light – like balls of fire upon empty space. She looked upon the one she held and realized that it had not completed its cycle. Her hands trembled on the orb, which seemed divided in half – one side was scarlet while the other still glittered in gold. She shook the orb again forcing the red tint to cover the entirety of the sphere but it remained as it was in her quivering hands. Angrily, she hurled it against the waters but it did not change. She picked it up again, and just as she was about to peer into its center, voices spoke behind her. She had seen this before, and to see it happen again made her realize that the prophecy was slowly taking form.

“Nin, your time has come…”

Slowly she turned around, and though her smile disappeared, there was a glint of evil malice in her eyes. And soon the words found their way from her twisted mind unto her bloodthirsty lips. “We shall see,” she said. “He WILL die, and so will his Defender. I shall intoxicate myself with their blood!”

“The only death that we shall endure will be yours,” the voices said again.

“Your bitterness will never cease.” Her childlike voice cracked in the forced laughter that ventured to cover the fear she felt inside. “His blood still lingers in my lips, Lai.” She licked her fingers as though savoring the taste of a meal that has been newly devoured.

“The Defender has agreed to the price,” the voices said again. “The hourglass has been tipped. You will suffer as I have suffered! The Prophecy will be fulfilled!”

“You will not have your vengeance, Lai! I will prevail, your prophecy will not unfold and he will not come back to you!” Nin cried aloud. But Nin fell silent; Aum himself spoke the prophecy – it would unfold as it was foretold, and the hourglass above her trickled down slowly, counting her last days. She hissed at it, then dropped the orb onto the waters and left hurriedly. A different song now filled the world of the Keepers – vengeance was playing a bittersweet melody and Nin found it unbearable to hear. She needed to find the only ally she could call upon that would be able to help her in her plight.

“AVEDDON!”

***

Somewhere deep within the bowels of New York, where darker creatures found their deaths, inside a throne room that was lit with many hanging lights upon endless arrays of frozen demons, a figure dressed in shimmering white sat upon a throne made of onyx and lined with jasper. He had golden blonde hair that cascaded down to his waist, and silver blue eyes that glinted with the light in the hall. His face was angelic – indeed beautiful to behold. And he had eagle wings that span almost thirty feet when spread. However, although outside he was fit for adulation, those who knew him had no love for him. They followed him out of fear, out of cowardice for his might. His name was Aveddon, and this was his fortress.

Four of his highest generals knelt before him now; they had just returned from a battle that he did not send them to fight, and to see them here in their retreat from another enemy filled him with great fury. They begged mercy and wished to return to his kingdom. Aveddon raised his scepter and a priest dressed all in deep green, with a necklace that hung around his neck bearing Aveddon’s crest, approached them. The priest was commanded to do a most hated ritual: a cruel method of killing the body that the incubus inhabited and forcing the spirit form out, condemning them to six months as an impotent entity that fed only in women’s dreams. The priest would puncture the head – just above the nape – with a needle about four inches long reaching the hypothalamus. Then a liquid substance was injected inside – the pain would cause blood veins to pop and eyes roll far up. Then using the same needle, a portion of the brain was sucked out, and without so much as a cry the body would fall limply forward with a loud haunting howl, filling the room and emptying out into the city. THIS was his mercy – with this painful procedure he had shown them pardon and allowed their return after six months.

“Get these foul creatures out of my sight!” Aveddon cried. “Insolent fools!”

“They are the only ones that have returned from those that defected, my lord,” said the priest.

“Good! They should perish – ALL OF THEM! I commanded Uriel to do a task for me, yet because of his cowardice he turns around and serves Voldemort!” cried Aveddon, throwing a crystal chalice against the wall.

“He is not with them, my lord.”

“He deserves death for his treason. If they have not killed him, and should he present himself here I will show him no pardon.” Then his face changed expression, and a streak of pain seemed to course through him. “It was only fit to replace him,” he said looking at a figure that stood in the shadows. The figure smiled back. “And what of the Nymphrodite? Were they able to farm him?”

“He died, my lord.”

Aveddon hissed. “If he had been taken to me, he would not have perished. I have perfected the method of taking the Iranna. He would have given it freely...” He closed his eyes, lost in some lust-filled thought as his tongue licked the edges of his mouth. “How I hunger for one,” he whispered coarsely. When he opened his eyes, he saw the priest shaking his head and it made him scowl. “What is it?”

“The Nymphrodite was married, my lord.”

Aveddon fell silent. “Was he now?”

“The reports say that he had joined the Bureau, a converted wizard, apparently. It was they who attacked Voldemort and reclaimed the Nymphrodite before they could extract the Iranna.”

“He must be of great power to overthrow Voldemort,” Aveddon said, rubbing his chin lightly.

“Nay, my lord. According to Kmerig, the one that overthrew him was the same one that killed Emmanuel before you could get the Iranna a century ago.”

Aveddon’s eyes revealed an old fear as he mentioned the name. “Dumbledore…and what of him? Did He survive?”

“He fell,” said the priest. Aveddon sighed heavily. A smile formed from his well-sculpted lips and erupted into evil laughter. “He sank the entire island, but was not able to get off.”

“PERFECT! The next century will be MINE!” Aveddon cried. His laughter was cut short when he heard a whispering sound behind him; he closed his eyes tightly as though the voice sent shivers through his body. “Leave! All of you! Leave me! Now!” he said. His hall emptied slowly, and he exited the throne room. His chamber was directly behind his Ebony seat; he stood upon a marble step that slowly lowered him deeper into the very core. He stepped inside a large red room with a gigantic mirror in the middle; Aveddon knelt before the large mirror, whispered something in an ancient tongue, and watched as a girl who appeared about seven years old walked out of it, joining him in the room.

“Rise!” she said.

“Nin. You have summoned me and here I am…”

“We have a problem.”

***

“Ron needs us, Sky, we cannot abandon him!” Rio said. Skyhawk kept cleaning his sword. Rio was now tapping the table lightly and when Skyhawk reached for his Sai, Rio stopped his hand. “Sky,”

“Rio, if his own people won’t help him then there is nothing we can do. The treaty that was invoked lost its power the day the Bearer died.” Skyhawk said.

“But isn’t Ron one of us now?” Eric asked. He brushed his black hair back with his hand, revealing a deep scar upon his forehead. “I heard from Simon that he was going to be deported back here.”

“Yes, he is.” Skyhawk said. “But I doubt if he would want to stay in New York. The Ministry has informed us that there will be a hearing on the first day of February to decide whether he’ll go into exile or not.”

“Ron is not crazy, ok? I know he looked crazy during the wake, but he’s not.” Rio said. “We have to spring him from that asylum.” Skyhawk stopped cleaning his sword. “He cannot be exiled here, he needs to perform a task. He WAS able to parley with the Keeper of the Dead, and she told him specifically what he needed to do. He can’t come to New York.”

“You should have warned him about that book, Rio.” David said. The Head Knight of the fifth Order had just joined them after raiding San Francisco earlier that evening. The Vampiric Clan war was almost over, but rogue members of the Brujah clan still needed a bit of convincing. “Pierre told me he was fooling around with ancient spells with old MacGrugger while he was here; the Ministry of Magic will not tolerate that kind of activity. And he used that as well as the book in less than a week: you can imagine how angry they are at us.”

“They are blaming us? Ron brought that book with him, he already had it,” Rio said.

“That’s not what they think,” David said.

“Was he really able to use the Firesword spell?” Kazpah asked.

“Yes, apparently he was. But the timing was wrong. He should have been trained more if he intended to use those ancient spells. MacGrugger should never have introduced him to it,” David said.

“He was a show off! Waving that stick as though it was the best thing in the world to be a wand user,” Jon said.

“Shut up!” Rio snapped. “Ron is young and a bit impulsive but he never showed off.”

“Rio, I don’t think he would want you to replace his Bearer,” Jon said. “If you needed serious humping all you have to do is ask!”

Rio looked at him angrily. “You think you’re funny? Maybe I should slice your tongue a bit!” He stood and gripped the hilt of his sword.

“Alright!” Skyhawk said. “Perhaps there is a way for us to help him, but if the task is what you told me, he really needs to return here. Voldemort is not an easy opponent. He will need further training.”

“Or MacGrugger can go there,” Rio suggested, smiling.

“Aidan won’t go back to England, you know that.” Skyhawk said. “The memory of Emmanuel still haunts him.”

Rio sighed. “Maybe if he learns that Ron is doing exactly the same thing he did…he just might.”

“There are things that time cannot heal, Rio,” Skyhawk said.

“I will certainly go back. Ron needs us,” Rio said looking at Jon, who held his tongue with his fingers. “I will do anything to help him.”

“Kazpah will take you then,” Skyhawk said.

Rio stood and walked past Jon, who snorted. He hit his head with his fist making Jon fall over the table.

***

Aveddon looked at his creator with doubt brewing in his mind. He knew of the Prophecy that was spoken against her and realized that she was now desperately trying to thwart its fulfillment yet again. She had tried once before and won; he had also very nearly succeeded in getting another Iranna, although Dumbledore had killed the Nymphrodite before they could get it from him. But this time Dumbledore was gone, and only one person stood in their way, much as Aidan MacGrugger had a century ago. Another Wizard turned Knight, desperate to save the one he loved from agony and death, was again blocking their path and though the old Sorcerer had fallen somehow, something told Aveddon that this would not be an easy victory. The Prophecy would be fulfilled one way or another, and he wondered if its time had come.

“It will not be easy to find those who took part in the ritual. They would have scattered all over the United Kingdom by now.” Aveddon said.

Nin gave him thirteen pendants. “I will show them to you. You have to give them one pendant each. Then help the Defender find each one.”

“Thirteen…”

“Yes, he only needs ten, that was the deal he made with Ji. But there are thirteen of them left alive.” Nin said.

“And the Bearer returns to life?” Aveddon said.

“Aye. You have to get the Bearer before that happens.” Nin said. “The Defender succeeds in his quest, the Bearer will rise and you…” She approached him running her cold fingers around his face.

“Yes, I…” Aveddon nodded; Nin placed her finger inside his mouth and he sucked at it, licking lustfully. Nin giggled deviously and Aveddon kissed her feet. Her wicked mind had again given birth to another cruel plot and it seemed to be flawless this time – both the creation and his creator were working together to make sure it would be, unlike the previous time, when he had tried to do it alone, against her will. Nin waved her hand and his wings disappeared. He was clothed with the same uniform as the Knights of the Bureau when he stepped into her mirror and disappeared.


***

“Hermione has not gone home to her parents.” Rio said. “Something’s up. I’m going to Hogwarts, I think she’s there.” MacGrugger was walking with him up to the Carpet room.

“Chase and Jigger have agreed to go with you,” MacGrugger said. “They are already with Kazpah.”

“Thank you, Aidan.” Rio said.

“Remember to report everything. And be sure that you're not seen by anyone from the Ministry. Garel is already in serious trouble with the Chancellors for sending our Knights to them during the attack on the Forbidden Tower,” MacGrugger said, handing Rio a small rod. “This will alert Skyhawk, David, and Myself. Do not use the Beacon.”

“Now I know why we are not part of the ICW. Stupid bastards! They need a serious overhaul in their government,” Rio said.

“They are a bunch of hypocrites, I know. They think they can handle everything with a wave of a wand. Their laws and regulations have aided no one but their enemies. They may have lost the only hope they’ve got. If that boy Harry is the answer to their troubles, then without Ron, they have completely lost the battle, and we may be facing another threat.”

“Won’t you help him? He will need your training. You’re the only one who knows how the ancient sword spells work,” Rio said. He was hoping that Aidan would agree to his proposal, but he found it hard to ask him. “Maybe…maybe…”

“Ron will need a lot of training. But he needs to come here to get it. I will never set foot on England’s shores,” MacGrugger said.

“But Dumbledore is gone, Aidan. Ron is alone in this quest, and the few who believe him are choked by many regulations,” Rio said.

“I’m sorry Rio. I can’t do it. If he needs my help, he needs to come here.” He tapped Rio’s shoulder and left for his chambers.

Rio shook his head and he in turn went up to the Carpet hall where Kazpah was waiting for him. Once he was on it, the carpet sped up and set off on its way towards Scotland.


***

“Rio!” Hermione exclaimed as the young knight approached her. “Why are you here?”

“The Ministry will not be pleased to know you’ve returned,” Remus said.

“We came to help rescue Ron,” Rio said. “This is Chase,” he said pointing to the young African-American behind him, “and this is Jigger.” The tall Latino was looking at Hermione as though she was a tasty meal. Hermione frowned at him.

“We've devised a plan, to get him out of the Asylum,” Hermione said. “I don’t know how you would all fit in.”

“Perhaps not during the actual rescue, but they can help Ron in completing his task,” Moody suggested.

Remus nodded. “He will need some assistance. And we will need information regarding Aveddon.”

“Aveddon?” Rio asked.

“Yes, we figured out who the eleventh soul was,” Hermione said.

“You mean it’s not Voldemort?” Rio said.

“No,” Severus said. “It’s your dreaded enemy, Aveddon. This book described the eleventh soul.” He placed the book in front of them and Rio knotted his brow upon seeing it.

“Where did you get this?” Rio said.

“A student from Durmstrang gave it to me. Harry has read it, Ron has not seen the inside.” Hermione said.

“Durmstrang…what, Bulgaria’s Durmstrang?” Chase asked.

“Yes, why?” Remus said.

“One of our Chancellors is from Bulgaria and he said they don’t have anything of this kind in Durmstrang – he used to be the Headmaster there,” Chase said.

“Well, their former headmaster had this book in his keeping. Viktor had to steal it and it was he who gave it to me, along with the Gatekeepers that Ron brought with him to New York.” Hermione said.

“Viktor? Viktor Krum?” Jigger asked.

“Yes,” Hermione said. Her frown seemed to have been plastered on her face.

“The Bulgarian Seeker?” Jigger pressed. “He’s awesome!”

“Wait, didn’t he visit the Bureau with that old man, what’s his name, Karkaroff?” Chase said.

“He’s a Death Eater. I killed him in London.” Hermione said. “When did they go to the Bureau?”

“A little over a year ago.” Chase said.

“Why did he give you the books?” Rio asked.

“Harry wanted to know more about Nymphrodites. We didn’t have anything here that discussed them and he was getting really anxious about it. I met Viktor during my fourth year, the Tri-Wizard tournament was held here that year and Harry was competing against him as one of the Champions,” Hermione said.

“You told him Harry was a Nymphrodite?” Rio said.

“NO!” Hermione said. “I mean, no. I told him that Ron had fallen in love with one and he needed help with it. But I never told him that it was Harry. Though he guessed at it. He kept asking who it was, and I told him it was someone from Beauxbatons.”

“He wouldn't have believed you - the last Nymphrodite was from France. The next one wouldn’t come from the same place.” Rio said. “He knew.”

“That’s why they came to New York, they did ask for the Book. And Chancellor Muzafar handed them two copies,” Chase said.

“Why two?” Remus asked.

“We don’t know exactly. He just requested the books, and then left,” Chase said.

“How do you know all this?” Hermione said.

“Garel is directly under him, and Skyhawk is directly under Garel. He’s not exactly the sort to keep things from us,” Rio said.

“When did he give you the books, Hermione?” Chase asked.

“The day after Christmas --- during our fifth year. He went to my parent’s house, and told me that he'd stolen the books from Karkaroff,” Hermione explained.

“That was last year,” Chase said. “Yes, that was about the same time that old man went to the Bureau.”

“Do you mean…?” Hermione trailed off.

“Yes, Viktor Krum was working for him. They both knew there was a Nymphrodite in England. Karkaroff took the books from our Library, but I think Krum was the one who took the Gatekeepers for himself,” Jigger said.

Hermione remembered the letter. Viktor had known what was going to happen – he'd known because he had been present when the Death Eaters were planning it. That was why he had handed over the Gatekeepers with specific instructions for Ron to learn it by heart – he had anticipated Harry’s death. Hermione couldn’t decide whether she was angry or thankful for what Viktor had done.

“He may have been the one Aveddon’s general intercepted,” Chase said.

“They may have been the ones that smuggled Hzerdul out of New York and brought him back to England,” Rio said.

“Hzerdul, you mean Lars?” Remus asked.

“Yes. We have a spy in Aveddon’s court, and he told Garel that Hzerdul was captured in Texas, on his way back to England. They tortured him of course – but he would not reveal who the Nymphrodite was. He wanted the Iranna for himself,” Jigger said.

“Then when Dumbledore invoked the treaty of 1855 when Harry was attacked, we were all surprised to find out it was Hzerdul. How he got back to England without us knowing had us baffled. Now it’s clear,” Rio said. “He was smuggled in by Karkaroff.”

“Yes, because Uriel did not report back to Aveddon. Remember, Draco said he was captured by Bellatrix Lestrange and forced to work for Voldemort. So when he did not report back, Aveddon sent another Incubus to look for him – though I doubt Lars knew he was being used by Aveddon. Clever, very clever.” Moody said.

“So Karkaroff was serving two masters – both Voldemort and Aveddon,” Remus said. “It’s a good thing he did not report back that it was Harry. Imagine if Aveddon had found out, it would have been the end…for all of us.”

“No. He never returned to New York,” Rio said. “And Aveddon was busy with the Vampiric Clan wars that he had initiated. He was getting tired of their constant plots to assassinate him so he sent them against each other.”

“But if Karkaroff died in London, who was it that went back to New York bringing with him four of Aveddon’s generals?” Jigger said. “They were executed the other day, or so our spy tells us.”

“It was Viktor,” Hermione said. She covered her mouth with hand and closed her eyes tightly. “How could he do this?”

“Well, it looks like the pieces are slowly falling into place,” Remus remarked. “That’s why he’s no longer in Durmstrang, Hermione. He’s in New York.”

Hermione swallowed hard; her head swam as a headache brewed. She massaged her forehead slowly. Remus went to her and tapped her shoulders.

“So, this plan of yours, what is it?” Rio asked.

Hermione turned around and looked at them. “We will go there tonight and make the exchange. You will need to dress up as Hogwarts students so the Ministry won’t be alarmed.”

“Exchange?” Rio said. “What exchange?” He crossed his hands and looked at Hermione who smiled at him. “You mean, exchange Ron with someone else? How?”


Hermione produced a flask from her robes and showed it to Rio. “Magic, Rio...bloody magic!” She smiled at him again.

“Oh! You are revving up my motor sweetie,” Jigger said. Rio looked at him angrily.

“That’s it!” Hermione cried. It took Remus and Moody to restrain her from hexing Jigger.

“It was a compliment!”